Back to the Desert
by Curlycurlz
Summary: Near the Oz Ev border, Elphaba and Fiyero run across a long forgotten Vinkus tribe that offers them a peaceful, easy life. Unfortunately, neither "peaceful" nor "easy" are adjectives Elphaba can come to terms with. Post-Musical with Book aspects. Rewrite.
1. Chapter 1

_This story has a prologue, called "The Power of Passion". If I were you I'd read that first. Well, this is a self-indulgant little project. Enjoy. Updates will be weekly._

An hour later found them walking through a thinning forest. The air was dryer, the trees more scraggly. They were nearing the desert.

"How is it that I'd never heard of this tribe?" asked Elphaba, breaking the silence.

"Elphie, I wouldn't have even heard of this tribe if I hadn't been Prince of the Arjikis. That's how remote they are."

"But still, I was as good as running the Vinkus for those months there."

"You didn't have the geography tutor I had."

After a few more minutes, Elphaba spoke again. "You're sure, than, that they'll be friendly?"

"They have no reason not to be. The Ozmas never knew of them, nor did the wizard, and they've all but forgotten they're a part of Oz. Truly. I don't think they even knew of me."

"Then why are we running to Quox? It seems perfectly safe here with them."

Fiyero sighed. "There is documentation of them. I know that Glinda was ditzy as a teenager, but you know that she always had a brain. If I were her, I'd have my people go through all the documents with a fine-tooth comb, and then take an inventory of all of Oz from top to bottom."

"_If_ you were she."

"We can't take any chances."

Elphaba couldn't help but feel that Fiyero was just a little too zealous in his need to get out from under Glinda's radar, but she didn't press the issue. She could not admit to herself that a small part of her wanted to be found.

As the land grew drier, Elphaba and Fiyero spoke less and less and began to slow their pace gradually. Streams were fewer and farther between, and though the two tried to follow them as much as possible, the trickles of water would peter out or veer in an opposite direction. High noon arrived, and they ceased to speak all together, bent against the burning sunlight. Any cactuses they found, they immediately cut and ate, forcing themselves to store some for later. They barely noticed their agony as thorns were embedded in their hands. Elphaba was close to shedding her long black gown, or at least cutting off the sleeves and shortening the skirt, and it was only the thought of the burns she would receive that allowed her to soldier on. She was surprised that her sweat was still running clear; surely her skin would be dissolving into it by now.

Finally, as the sun began to tip off the halfway point, they knew they were walking through a proper desert. Some scrub could still be seen and cactuses blessedly dotted the sand, but they could see where the growth tapered off. It gave them both a chill to see the borders of Oz, their homeland.

Abruptly, Fiyero halted in his tracks. Tacked onto the cactus in front of him was a tiny doll, nothing more than cloth wrapped around a bundle of sticks. A stern, surprisingly elaborate face was painted on, and strange symbols adorned its chest.

"We're close."

Elphaba knelt to examine the doll further, to see if she could place the symbols. Something about the craftsmanship drew her, and she extended a finger towards it…

"No!" Fiyero grabbed her shoulder roughly and threw her backwards. Elphaba landed in a heap in the sand, her shoulder joint protesting loudly. Fiyero looked shocked with himself. "Elphie, I'm sorry, I hadn't meant to be so rough…"

"They're magic-makers?" she whispered, her voice parched. In that one finger, she had felt a frighteningly powerful force emanating from the little doll. Had she even grazed it, she didn't want to think about what could have happened…

Fiyero nodded. "I'd forgotten until now. Their leaders are the most powerful, but they can all do magic."

Elphaba wiggled her fingers. "Are they green, too?"

Fiyero laughed uneasily. "No. They're dark, almost black."

As they gazed across the desert, they could see more dolls dotting cactuses in a straight line. Fiyero stood and helped Elphaba up. "We follow those. They get more potent as we get closer, so you have to watch yourself. Don't even graze it with your dress."

Elphaba's eyes widened as she walked. It was no wonder these people were removed. "Will we be able to get into the camp?"

"We'll have to negotiate entrance. They're immune to the magic, and they'll do a little something on us so we can walk in unharmed."

This seemed so much more complicated than necessary, and she tried to stifle the temper that had begun to rise with the heat. "Fiyero, I know Glinda. She won't bother with them. She won't even know how."

"You left her the Grimmerie."

If Elphaba had been more hydrated, she would have screamed with frustration. As it was, she bottled it, though she wasn't entirely sure that she wouldn't spontaneously combust. She forced herself to take deep, calming breaths, and dust caked the inside of her throat. This was worse than before. She wanted to _kill_ something. Preferably Fiyero. That good-looking bastard…Elphaba didn't care what colour his package was; when she was this uncomfortable, nobody had the right to look even remotely presentable. Fiyero's eyes met hers, and she angrily looked away, ashamed with herself.

"Was it something I said?"

"No, and let's keep it that way," she snapped. "And save the puppy-dog eyes."

"Elphaba, would you rather we parted?"

Elphaba shivered with irritation. "You insult your own intelligence at times, you know that?"

"You just seem so unhappy."

"Please." She stopped, grabbed his face and looked into his eyes. "So help me God, if you're joking, you're wasting your breath and being an idiot. Stop. And if you're serious, well, what did I expect, considering your last paramour."

Fiyero's eyes widened. "Don't drag that into this!"

"Why not? You seemed to have built every single plan we have around her." She began to stomp away, but Fiyero grabbed her waist.

"I love you. You." He bent in to kiss her, but their chapped lips bumped together unpleasantly. Elphaba pulled away, her aggression spent but her discomfort increased. Hastily, she chewed a morsel of cactus and swished the pulp around her mouth. She wasn't sure if they were real or a mirage, but tent-shaped blobs had appeared on the horizon. Two hours later, they could make out people, and they quickened their pace, anticipating gulp after gulp of cool, fresh water. Actually, just cool; the quality didn't really matter at this point.

Gradually, however, they found it took much more effort to put one foot in front of the other. Elphaba clenched her teeth, determined not to show weakness, until Fiyero began to pant. They exchanged uneasy glances and doubled their effort. It soon became clear that there was a factor other than exhaustion holding them back.

They were fifty feet from the nearest structure when they had to stop. The effort required to inch forward was too great. They melted to the ground, clutching each other, and gazed into the camp.

If Elphaba had to guess the number, she would have said that two hundred people were gathered in the centre circle of the camp, and they were all dancing to no music. The moves were strange; they started standing straight up, arms and faces stretched to the sky. Then, they'd simulate melting, undulating their bodies until they had curled onto the ground. As a group, they would snap back up and repeat the entire move. The children were nude, and the rest wore only skirts.

"Some kind of ritual?" croaked Elphaba.

Fiyero nodded. "To lower the sun for a celebration." Elphaba glanced at him, and he elaborated. "It's too hot to dance during the day, so they wait 'til night. They believe this speeds things up."

Elphaba wasn't sure of Fiyero's use of the word "believe." As she watched, the sun slipped an inch or so lower to the ground. It seemed that, combined, these people had enough power to influence celestial bodies, and that frightened her.

They watched this for what seemed like hours. The collected cactus was running low, and the only other plant near to them was adorned with a guard-doll. After a while, a young girl broke away from the group and, unnoticed by her tribe-mates, began to wander out of the village. She froze when she noticed Elphaba and Fiyero, but only momentarily. Then, she ran back to the group and began tugging on the adult's legs, her voice piercing among the silence. Finally, as Elphaba and Fiyero watched, a woman responded to the girl. The two of them felt rather foolish. They knew they looked ridiculous, wearing so many clothes in the heat, and their bodies caked with sweaty sand. Quietly, the woman slipped away from the group and approached them briskly. Fiyero stood and began to brush off sand, and Elphaba followed suit.

"Sikko jejeba," said the woman as she approached with a guarded look on her face. She stopped five feet away from them, a distance they knew they couldn't cross without killing themselves.

"Jejeba," responded Fiyero. "Kenni ma Fiyero."

Elphaba was impressed. "What language is that?"

"Close to my mother tongue, staggeringly different dialect," he hissed. He began to speak again, slowly and clearly, and Elphaba watched as the woman nodded slowly, understanding the gist of what Fiyero was saying. Then, she began to speak. Fiyero's face registered gratitude, but with an undertone of perplexity. Elphaba nudged him. "She said that we're welcome."

"And?"

"We're not the first visitors today. Apparently, they've had a visit from some sort of…god."

Elphaba started. "What?" This sounded messy.

"I know," he whispered. Then he looked at the woman again, and said something else. She shrugged, and began to walk away. Elphaba hated being in the dark like this. "What? What is it?"

"She's gone to ask the shaman to let us in."

From their position, they watched as the woman called to the people, halting them in their hypnotic dance. She spoke briefly and gestured to the two travelers, and a whisper went up around the camp. From the centre of the pack walked a man so adorned with jewelry that every step was accompanied by what sounded like a percussion ensemble, and as he approached the entire tribe of 200 fell into step behind him.

"Sikko jejeba." His voice was rich and deep, perfect for incantations.

"Jejeba," responded Fiyero.

"Jejeba." Fiyero looked at Elphaba, and she shrugged. "I'm not an idiot."

"Clearly," he whispered, and smiled. "Good accent."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The shaman cleared his throat, and the two snapped to attention again. Fiyero muttered something that sounded like an apology, and a dialogue arose began between them. Elphaba strained her ear for clues as to what they were talking about. Unexpectedly, the shaman turned his face towards Elphaba and addressed her. Without even thinking, she responded.

"Kenni ma Elphaba."

Fiyero jumped in, but not before the shaman flashed a small smile. _He's impressed,_ she thought. _I've passed some sort of test._

Evidently, Fiyero had managed to talk them into the tribe's favor because the Paniwawas had begun to edge across the invisible barrier. The two were guided into position, back to back, and their hands found each other, lacing together their fingers, neither admitting their nerves. A dense circle was formed around them. The shaman sang a note, and the rest joined it, adding harmonies, until they created a sound so rich and full that Elphaba felt her heart expand and tears pool in her eyes.

Abruptly, the music cut out, and the tribe's people began a low melodic chant. The circle began to rotate and a dance movement was added, a wave of the body where the chest led and the head followed, finishing with an extension of the hand. Put together, the entire motion looked like a heave. The full feeling in Elphaba's heart grew, and she began to swoon, supporting herself on Fiyero's back.

This felt horribly wrong. It felt as if her innards were going to explode. She took deep breaths, sucking in air to fill the frenzied void. The circle kept pulsating, the dancers kept chanting, and Elphaba dropped to her knees, clutching her gut. Her moans escalated to screams. Fiyero knelt in front of her. He was speaking, but she couldn't hear him. The chant cut out, and Elphaba lost all sense.

_Well, hope you're enjoying it so far. Stick with me. The next chapter is written. It gets better._


	2. Chapter 2

_New plan: I'm going to update whenever my story gets bumped off the first page._

It was unlike any awakening Elphaba had ever experienced. It seemed like hours before she could discern the rustling noises around her as muted whispers. The sense of touch came next. Hands kneaded her body, every inch of it. Elphaba had never been one for a lot of physical contact, and this was driving her mad, but she didn't know how to stop it. Smell came next: a beautiful must, a blend of herbs and flowers and campfire smoke, yet braided with unwashed body that she came to recognize as her own. Still, she was drained; she had absolutely no energy for opening her eyes. She didn't know how long she laid there, stiff as board and just as animated, but the whisperings and probing of her body never increased or decreased.

After a point, she had awoken enough to begin to piece together what exactly had happened. They were in the desert – oh, God, she remembered the heat – and they had come upon this tribe. Something to do with a ritual…she had definitely been magicked. The sensation was coming back to her now…it had been horrible, like her insides were being inflated. She supposed she had passed out from that. _Weakling,_ she chided. Fiyero had been able to handle it…

Fiyero.

She slit her eyelids open, and saw what she had predicted: the inside of a cool, dark tent; and the heads of the tribal women working on her body. They hadn't noticed yet that she was awake. She tried to speak, but all that came out was a moan. Their voices stopped, but their hands didn't. They all looked at her expectantly, not shocked but… relieved.

"Fi…ye…ro."

The women glanced at each other and shrugged. Elphaba took a deep breath and tried again.

"Elphie. You're awake." Fiyero burst through the tent flap and rushed to her side, displacing a few of the women as he knelt to grab her hand.

"What happened?" she whispered.

Fiyero struggled to find the right words. "Heatstroke was a factor. And – you'll understand this better than I do – their magic was incompatible with yours?"

_Of course. _"Sorry."

"No, no." Fiyero shook his head wildly. "It's not your fault, they had no idea you were magical. These people…" he smiled uneasily at the women in the tent. "I've had a few stern talking-to's for not telling them."

Elphaba forced herself to smile. "Good."

Fiyero laughed with relief. "All right, now I know you're ok." He gathered her up into a hug, which she tried to return. "I was so scared I'd lost you for a second. You looked like you were in so much pain."

As grateful as she was, this was all getting rather embarrassing for Elphaba. "Help me up, will you?"

"I don't know…" Fiyero muttered something to one of the women, who shook her head profusely, talking at him as though he were a child. Fiyero seemed to have lost intelligence points in these people's eyes. Considering he had ruled the most powerful tribe in the Vinkus, this was almost comical to Elphaba. "You're not allowed to stand yet, you're not strong enough, but she thinks it's probably a good idea for you to sit up."

It took Fiyero's strength plus a team of six women, but finally Elphaba was settled in a chair. The nausea she had experienced from the shifting of position was passing, but her head did feel clearer. If only she weren't so damn _weak._ "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

Elphaba shook her head impatiently. "Give me updates."

Fiyero shrugged. "They reacted quickly. They carried you in, and started yelling questions at me, and when they heard that you were magical they bit my head off completely… well, they told me you could have died. Then they got you set up in here with the women and kicked me out, and I'm not sure if it's because I'm a man or because they think I'm a blundering oaf. And then the men set me up in a tent. They're quite kind to visitors, even idiots like me. They insisted I bathe…" he shrugged sheepishly, "and eat and drink and sleep. That last one I couldn't possibly accomplish, you know, thinking of you. And then someone came to the tent and told me I could see you, and I ran here."

Elphaba waited expectantly, but it was clear that he had no more to say. "So that's… all."

"Yes." He cocked his head. "What were you expecting?"

"Well, did you gather any information about that… visitor? The 'god' they said had come to visit them?"

Fiyero stared at her, confused, and then blushed and dropped his head. "Trust you to remember that. No, sorry, I didn't get anything."

Elphaba pursed her lips. "I know it seems like a nitpick, but I've never met a 'deity' that wasn't dangerous. Even the Wizard was a deity, to certain people, and look where that went. Is the sun down yet?"

"It just went down."

"And they haven't started celebrating yet." Elphaba was impatient. She hated not knowing. "So what are they doing? Listen, Fiyero, I hate to be bossy but I'm a little incapacitated. Poke your head out of that tent flap and tell me what you see."

Fiyero obliged, and Elphaba didn't care if it was just to humor her. After a few seconds, Fiyero turned back. "They're building a totem of some sort."

Elphaba sighed impatiently.

"It seems to be a wooden pole, draped with fabric and a wicker basket sitting on top…" He turned back, his face white, and swallowed audibly. "It almost looks like…"

"A balloon." Elphaba cursed, and a few tears of frustration leaked from the corners of her eyes. "A goddamn balloon."

_Hope you liked it, REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!!!_

_Curlz_


	3. Chapter 3

_Sup. Story has been bumped; here's an update for YOOOOUUUU!_

Whatever the women had been doing to Elphaba had begun to work, and she was able to emerge from the tent just as the festivities had begun. She had decided that speaking against the wizard in front of the tribe would have been idiocy until they could guess the reaction such an affront would draw, and gage their approach appropriately.

The spectacle would have been beautiful, had Elphaba not felt so nauseous. The Paniwawas danced in a layered circle around the pole Fiyero had described, their voices melding together into a long, exhilarating proclamation of happiness. And, reclining in a raised chair, presiding over the dance with a practiced air of bored approval, was _that man._ Elphaba's aggression returned in full force. Her pulse was rushing, her head was reeling, her face was flushing and she felt something she'd only ever felt in that man's presence. What was it? …Yes. Loathing. Unadulterated loathing. She wanted to attack him, to kill him, but Fiyero discreetly held her back. Instead, he bent towards her and whispered in her ear.

"Should he know we're here?"

Was Fiyero actually letting her call the shots on this one? "I'd damn well say so."

"It could be dangerous, though. I mean… he could turn the tribe against us."

"Fiyero. Shut up." As Fiyero rested speechless with shock, Elphaba settled into a rant. "He doesn't speak their language. He's not intelligent enough to pick it up. He has no power here, none of his bodyguards. All he's riding on right now is the shock value of sailing in on a balloon. Sooner or later, they're going to find out that there's nothing godly about him. They're smarter than the average Ozian."

"How do you know?"

"I know. And we have him right where we want him. Fiyero, we have the upper hand." A twinge of pride shot through her. So this is what it was like to be the hater instead of the hated one. She couldn't deny that there was a certain strange exhilaration in such total detestation. "I'm… I mean, _with your permission_, I'm going up to him right now. I'll give him the fright of his life."

Fiyero slumped. "Fine. But you're not very strong yet. I'm going with you."

Elphaba rolled her eyes as she began to walk towards the chair, angled so her green skin wouldn't be noticeable. "Whatever you say, Daddy," she taunted. Deep down, though, she was grateful.

The "wizard" looked so decrepit atop his perch, and Elphaba beamed in triumph. She stopped square in front of him, hands on hips. He hadn't noticed her yet. He was staring into the distance.

"Fancy meeting you here."

He jumped a mile at the sound of her deep voice, dripping with sarcasm. Wildly, he looked around, and as his eyes landed on her, his face turned almost instantly to the colour of goose dung. "My god," he whispered. Elphaba arched an eyebrow at the irony of his choice of interjection.

"No, it's just me," she countered.

The old man looked as though he were fighting for words. "I thought…I thought you were…" he whimpered. There was a hysteric edge to his voice, which Elphaba interpreted as fear.

"Dead? Please. You think I wasn't prepared for that little band of wannabe-hit men?"

"Wannabe-hit men?" whispered Fiyero.

"I clearly didn't mean you," she replied. She turned back to the wizard, readying herself to tear into him, but he jumped from the chair. She watched, dumbfounded, as he landed hard, struggled to his feet and began to stumble towards her. Before she could react, his arms closed around her.

Elphaba had barely registered the situation when the wizard screamed an ugly old-man scream. Fiyero had pulled him to the ground, pinned him, and now he was pummeling him. "How dare you touch her!" The Paniwawas hadn't noticed; their hypnotic dance continued.

"Elphaba, I thought I'd never see you again," he yelled between hits.

"And I _hoped_ I'd never see you again," she spat.

He shook his head madly. "Elphaba. I'm… _will you get off me so I can speak?_" he yelled. Fiyero stood up and wrenched him roughly to his feet. "Your father."

"What about my father?"

"It's me. I'm your father. You're my daughter."

For half a second, Elphaba was struck dumb – this surely was an odd verbal joust – but she recovered quickly. "You wish," she snarled.

"Please, hear me out," he said, and Elphaba quieted, curious to hear, despite herself. "Do you recognize this?" He produced a small, green glass bottle, an embossed "E" adorning the front. Elphaba's nostrils flared as she snatched it from him.

"You insolent bastard, you thief!" she yelled, advancing on the wizard. "How dare you steal from me!"

"No!" He'd put his arms in front of his face, shielding himself from her wrath. "That one's mine! This one…" He fished around in his robes for a moment, finally pulling out an identical bottle. "This is the one I took. No! …I had _thrown _at me by your friend Glinda, who _took_ it from your chambers."

Elphaba snatched this bottle, too, and examined the bottom of both. Sure enough, the bottom of the first was clean, while the second had two letters scratched into it. "MT". Her mother's initials. "What are you trying to prove?"

"I was the one who sold this to her. 'Green Elixir' …ha. All I had when I landed was a few bottles of absinthe liquor, and I managed to sell it under a fancy name. Her husband was away, and she gave me a meal, I gave her the absinthe…"

Elphaba slapped him, hard, and his head ricocheted from side to side. "Don't speak about my mother that way."

The wizard sighed. "I'm trying, ok? I'm sorry for… whatever I did."

Elphaba's jaw dropped. "Whatever you did? You've ruined the lives of countless beings! You've driven me out of my country! My best friend thinks I'm dead… Are you sorry for all that?" She'd given him a hard shove for every point, and his back was now pressed against the raised platform.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I wish I could take it all back."

"You can't. The damage is unlimited. And now you're trying to pacify me with these insolent lies…"

"They aren't lies!" Tears were shining in the wizard's eyes. "They're the truth. I swear to you. Elphaba…"

Elphaba couldn't listen anymore. She spun around, grabbed Fiyero's hand and began to stalk away.

"Elphaba, please!"

She stopped abruptly, bumping against Fiyero, and whirled to face the wizard. "You will communicate to these people that you are not their god. You will do so by sunrise. If not, we'll tell them. And then, if you don't leave the country…" Elphaba slinked forward a few paces. "I will kill you."

Fiyero's arm encircled her own, and they moved slowly back to their tent, colliding with a few stray dancers on the way. Fiyero turned his head to speak to her, but looked away quickly, allowing her some privacy. She was weeping.

As soon as the tent flap had swung closed behind her, Elphaba collapsed onto all fours before Fiyero had time to grab her. A host of emotions was howling through her and she realized she was shaking… was it from fatigue, or anger, or fear? Fiyero's able arms encircled her and gently pulled her to her feet, and she moved with him to her cot on the floor. As she reclined, she realized how hard she was actually crying, and tried to stifle her sobs. "He was lying. He really was, Fiyero."

"I know," he whispered, lying down next to her. "He's an evil man. All he's ever done is lie."

"Everything he said was wrong," she continued. "It all made perfect sense, but it was wrong. It had to have been." Fiyero gathered her into his chest, and she buried her face into him while she sobbed. "He's not my father. He can't be."

"I know."

Elphaba's sobs quieted as Fiyero ran a tender hand over her hair. Then, in a nearly inaudible whisper, she spoke again.

"I'm not his daughter."

_...And when the next one will come is really anyone's guess. Review, please._

_Curlz_


	4. Chapter 4

_Update! Be happy!!_

Fiyero jolted awake, looking around frantically. Where was he? The gray light of the wee morning hours confused everything he saw. He rolled away, intent on getting up, but a moan from his pillow confused him. A black something lazily extended, and a pale green hand wrapped itself around his belt.

_Elphaba._

He was fully awake now.

_Agh_, was he fully awake now; pity, he could have used the extra minutes. He inched towards Elphaba until her unconscious hand relaxed and he could slip his belt out from under it. He nearly tripped on a tray of food that lay by their cot, and as soon as the aroma of roasted meat tickled his nose he gorged into his meal like a lion on an antelope. Before he could stop himself, he had begun to lick clean the clay bowl.

The tent they shared was airy, but Fiyero wouldn't allow himself to exhale; he was paranoid about waking her. He slipped out of the tent. The Paniwawas were gathered into family groups, scattered all about the site, cuddled into cocoons, sleeping soundly. The fire was still burning brightly, but Fiyero shivered in his baggy clothes. How could they stand it?

"You were the scarecrow, weren't you?"

Fiyero spun around and his eyes landed on the wizard, who was still sitting in his raised chair, slumped over yet wide awake – Fiyero watched the fire reflect in his eyes. "What?"

"Oh, nothing, I can't believe I didn't see it. A talking scarecrow… how absurd. I should have suspected when the Gale Forcers told me that your body had disappeared from the field."

Fiyero gagged as the memory of the beating came back to him.

"And I sent you right into the arms of your beloved, too. Stupid of me, really. And of course I should have known that she wasn't dead of _melting_, of all things."

"You don't sound very disappointed," Fiyero interrupted.

"Disappointed, my boy? Why would I be disappointed? I've discovered that I hadn't killed my daughter…"

"Please, stop that," interjected Fiyero loudly. "It's getting boring."

The wizard was silent for a long beat. Then, he began to laugh mirthlessly. "It's ridiculous, isn't it? There are two types of Ozians: one type believes everything that comes out of my mouth; the other believes nothing, even the truth."

"Don't look for pity." Fiyero's voice had morphed into a growl.

"No, no, no. I don't even pity myself." Here, the accompanying sigh made it apparent that his remark was another lie. Fiyero changed the subject.

"Have you done what we told you to do yet?"

"What are you… Oh, right. Un-god myself. Yes, well, you see…"

"No, I don't see!" Fiyero's detestation for this man was reaching new heights. "We told you what to do; did you do it or not?"

"I…"

"Yes or no?"

A tense silence followed. "Do you think she would actually kill me?"

"No," answered Fiyero automatically. "She's not evil enough for that. I, however, just might."

The wizard laughed again, although this time, it could have sounded like sobbing. "My God, why." The wizard sighed again shakily. "You know, I've always wanted to be a father. I especially wanted a daughter. A fabulous parent, I am."

For some reason, Fiyero didn't have a retort ready. He found himself curious, but asked his question in as scathing a tone as he could muster. "Why are you pushing this paternity issue?"

The wizard spoke his next words quietly, as though they were only just popping into his head. "I made her what she is. I remember her mother, a silly lady. Beautiful, but silly. She was a frequent drinker. She didn't tell me she was pregnant. She hid her bump for six months, you know, all the while drinking my absinthe like water. I didn't know it would have that affect on the fetus. I ruined her life from the beginning."

"No!" Fiyero had to interrupt here. "You had nothing to do with making Elphaba what she is. Her appearance isn't her. She was always strong, willful, opinionated, and unfalteringly kind. You made her life difficult, but she never let that define her. If you ruined her life, you did it in the very recent past." Fiyero hadn't realized he was shouting. He looked nervously at the campers, but they hadn't budged; only a few children murmured softly. He was taken aback to find the wizard smiling. "Wipe it off, old man."

"Am I to infer that you believe me, then?"

Fiyero paused, considering what he had just said. He couldn't deny that the story was plausible, but he wouldn't validate it until Elphaba did. "All I'm saying is that you give yourself too much credit." The conversation had veered right off track. "And as soon as these people wake up, I'm going to tell them exactly what we had talked about." The wizard shrugged indifferently, and this infuriated Fiyero. "I wouldn't be so calm about it. Elphaba's powerful. Powerful, and angry."

"That's my girl."

Fiyero didn't respond; he wouldn't give the wizard the satisfaction.

Unbeknownst to the both of them, the sun had begun to rise in the east. Fiyero saw the wizard squint and a long shadow fall behind him just as the heat began to press on his back. Turning to look at the camp, he saw that the fire was shrinking of its own accord, and the men and women were slowly stirring and rising. The children stretched and moved away from each other, but they slept on.

"I'll be back," hissed Fiyero, in what he'd hoped was a threatening tone of voice.

Thought Fiyero tugged at the flap door of his tent, something was opposing his force. "Elphaba, it's me," he whispered.

In a flash, a Paniwawa woman had poked her head out of the flap, excitement flashing in her black eyes. "_Hold on a second_," she muttered in the tribal tongue. She retracted her head and snapped the tent closed again, and Fiyero stared dumbfounded at the rawhide. For safety's sake, he glanced back at the wizard, who smiled and waved in the most irritating manner imaginable.

A few more idle minutes passed before the flap was once again pulled back. The first thing Fiyero saw was a slender green foot, adorned with a wooden bangle, stepping out onto the beaten-down sand. Fiyero's eyes traveled up her legs, noting the gauzy black garment that fell to her knees. It was a loose-fitting, short dress, resembling something closer to an undergarment, yet Elphaba looked relatively overdressed. But it was her face that Fiyero lingered on. Her thick hair had been tamed into hundreds of tiny braids that formed neat rows over her head and continued all the way down to the tips, contrasting marvelously with the green stripes of skin they revealed. The hanging hair had been twisted into a knot at the base of her head and secured with a bone clip. But Fiyero couldn't tear his gaze away from her eyes. He could tell she was fully recovered from her reaction of the day before, for she seemed alert, and there was an intensity and sharpness and staggering beauty about her eyes that he couldn't place.

"I'm guessing I have your approval, then?" Elphaba truly wanted to sound sarcastic, but he could hear the shy satisfaction she was masking.

"And then some," he answered. "Where's that dress from?"

"They washed my old one and…" Two women pushed passed them, holding black bundles, noses wrinkled. "…cut it up. Somehow they thinned out the material."

"And you're wearing jewelry?"

"The bangle is protecting my feet from the heat of the sand, and the clip is keeping my hair off my shoulders. You have no idea how hot black hair can get. Anything else?"

"Your…"

"…Eyes. It's makeup." Fiyero's jaw dropped. "Don't even, Yero. It's to keep the sun out."

"Okay, Sure." He rested his hands on her hipbones and pulled her towards him, planting a slow kiss on her lips. Elphaba didn't even squirm away from the PDA. _This has done her a world of good_.

"_Sir_?" Fiyero turned to find two younger men, one of them holding a pair of shears. "_Your turn_."

Fiyero and the two teenagers – Kioko and Jaszo – displaced the dozen women in the tent. Fiyero shed his farmer's clothes, relieved as the chafing feeling diminished. Thanks to Elphaba, he was left with a pair of red and white striped boxers… a nice touch, even if it had been unintentional. Jaszo fetched the clay water jar as Kioko shook out Fiyero's clothes, stepping away from the straw and sand as it dislodged into the air. Three dunks and a shake, and the clothes were clean and dry as new… this simple magical control over minute details the Paniwawas had never ceased to amaze.

The little light in the tent flashed over the shears as they worked the burlap and felt. Finally, they held up for approval a brown rectangle with extra material poking out of two opposite corners. Fiyero took it and, mimicking the designs of Jaszo's and Kioko's garments, wrapped it around his waist, tying it off the excess. It occurred to him that he was wearing a skirt, but he didn't feel feminine at all. He felt strong, animalistic, and strangely emotional. For though the Arjikis had been exposed to urban influences, Fiyero knew about their evolution from a simple tribe much like the Paniwawas to the greatest tribe in the Vinkus. Ancestor worship was widely practiced in the Vinkus cultures, and by emulating his forefathers, he felt more true to himself than he had felt his entire life. Wordlessly, he removed his boxers, trusting the flap of the well-made wrap to stay closed.

Fiyero was shocked to find Elphaba and the wizard chatting almost civilly, but he wasn't astounded; he couldn't deny that the man did have charisma. As he neared them, the wizard looked up and smiled. "Shall we begin, then?"

"Let's," spat Elphaba. "Would you translate, please?" Fiyero shrugged.

The wizard stood and cleared his throat. "May I have your attention, please?"

His public speaking voice was entirely opposite to his natural voice; all conversation ceased. Even the wizard looked shocked at such a reception. "I'm afraid there's been a sort of… misunderstanding." He glanced over at Fiyero.

"_He says he's afraid there's been a misunderstanding_."

"This is not anyone's fault."

"_This is not…_ Stop waffling, for Gods' sake. _This is not anyone's fault._"

"It has come to his attention that you believe me a deity."

Fiyero rolled his eyes. "_He has finally realized how the tribe perceives him._"

"I would like to thank these two marvelous individuals…"

"Tell them, Fiyero," hissed Elphaba.

Fiyero hesitated a second before opening his mouth again. "_He says he is not a god, like you believe. He is just a man with a flying contraption. Elphaba and I apologize for not having told you all earlier._"

The way Fiyero saw it, two things could happen. The Paniwawas could turn hostile towards all three of them, kicking them out of the campground, or worse. Alternatively, they could turn hostile towards only the wizard. The second option sounded the most appealing, but all the same, he braced himself in front of Elphaba, shielding her from any impending attack. But, as he watched the crowd, nobody seemed to be in attack mode at all. In fact, they all seemed a tad dismayed, but not angry in the least. Slowly, the shaman approached, his jewelry dangling, stopping square in front of Fiyero.

"_We understand what has happened. While we are sorry that we have wasted food and drink in futile celebration, we cannot blame you for what has happened."_

Fiyero swiveled is head to look at the wizard. "They're not happy."

"_Tell this man that we shall aid him to the best of our abilities in the repair of his flying contraption."_

"They want you to fix your balloon and get out."

"_We invite your wife and you to stay for as long as necessary."_

Fiyero grinned. "_Thank you._" To Elphaba: "They've invited my wife and me to stay for as long as necessary." Elphaba gasped and her cheeks darkened. Fiyero bowed to the shaman, who returned the bow and walked away.

"I don't think I've ever properly introduced myself," said the wizard. "The name's Hershlag. Noah Hershlag."

Fiyero coughed. "That's…"

"That's ridiculous," Elphaba finished.

"That's Hebrew, my dear, and that's your surname as well."

Elphaba waved away the second part of Hershlag's sentence. "Hebrew?"

"Yes. The Jewish people." Hershlag cupped Elphaba's chin gently and studied her face, and surprisingly, Elphaba didn't react. "I thought so. You don't look a thing like Melina. Truly, you remind me more of my sister. That nose, and that hair… Those eyes…"

Finally, Elphaba slipped out of his grasp. "This pigment?"

"No, my dear, that's you entirely. Well…" Hershlag paused.

"It was that Green Elixir. I know."

"Yes. I am sorry about that. I had no idea she was pregnant, you see."

As Elphaba thought, Fiyero studied her face. She wasn't looking at Hershlag with contempt at all, only reserve. It almost looked like she was fighting to keep up the shield. Deep down, he saw that she wanted to be able to drop the hate she felt towards him. She wanted to believe him. And if it turned out that she could find it in herself to trust him, Fiyero could too. He would have to.

Just as an awkward silence had settled in, a bell rang from the centre of the camp, and everybody began to stream towards the source of the noise. Fiyero felt a tug at his sarong. A tiny little girl was beckoning them towards the centre. He grabbed Elphaba's hand and pulled, leaving Hershlag literally standing in the dust.

Breakfast smelled incredible. They watched as a group of women gathered around a pot and, with their bare hands, began scooping something pale green into the hands of the rest of the tribe. They then split off into smaller groups around the camp, delving into their blob. Elphaba and Fiyero approached the pot, holding their hands out with their right palm pressed on top of their left, fingers spread, as the Paniwawas were doing. Soon, they were standing right next to the pot, receiving a handful of what looked like green goo with a dough-like consistency. Hastily, they removed themselves from the crowd and looked about the camp for somewhere to sit. Their minds were made up for them, however, when the same girl who had alerted them to breakfast shouted and beckoned to them excitedly from where a gaggle of the tribe's youngest children sat in a circle around a mound of what could only have been the combined portion of the dough. Smiling, Fiyero and Elphaba joined them, adding their portions to the pile.

A happy child will find amusement in absolutely anything, and these children were no different. One by one, they took turns breaking off a blob and molding it into an amusing shape to be passed around the circle once and then eaten by the creator. Through Fiyero's hands passed four-legged creatures, cactuses, tents, and even a hot air balloon. The children giggled and played with every new creation. Finally, the task fell to what looked like the oldest and quietest girl in the group. She concentrated on her model with a straight face for a long time, using tiny pieces for detail, until some of the children had begun to squirm and complain. Finally, it was passed around the circle. Each new child to receive it would look at it carefully for a minute, then glance at Elphaba, laugh, and pass it to the next person. Fiyero strained his neck to see it.

It was gently placed into his hands, face-up, for it was a model of Elphaba's head. Thin dough-worms ran in rows down one side of the ball, signifying her new hairstyle, and a prominent nose and chin was displayed. The colour was perfect. Fiyero smiled and passed it to the life-sized version.

Elphaba was shocked, and touched. She smiled, but Fiyero saw her lower lip quiver. This passed, however, as she perched the face on her shoulder, eliciting wild laughter from all the children.

Fiyero's brain wasn't up to a creative task; a shovel was the best he could think of. The children liked it well enough. Finally, as it was laid back into his hands, it came time to partake in breakfast. The pile had run quite low. He glanced at Elphaba uneasily before biting off the tip of the handle, but he was surprised at the flavor, sweet and fruity, with the consistency of raw cookie dough. He finished the rest happily.

Elphaba had already started before he had swallowed his creation fully. She was just rounding out the tip of a cone she had made, creating a solid bell shape. Next, a large inverted teardrop was placed on the rounded top. It looked to Fiyero like a warped snowman, but Elphaba hadn't finished yet. Two spheres were positioned on opposite sides of the widest part of the top half, and two small worms bent inward at ninety degrees protruded from these. With a start, Fiyero recognized it as a figure in a ball gown, headless for the time being. Next, Elphaba connected the teardrop bodice and a newly made sphere with a small connecting cylinder in between, forming a neck and a head. Two eyes, a nose and a rounded-fingernail-indent mouth were added to create a smiling face. Clusters of tiny balls along the back half of the head formed tightly-curled hair, and a final worm across the hair emulated a tiara. Elphaba stared at her creation proudly for a second before passing it on. Once it was Fiyero's turn to hold it, his suspicions were confirmed: the model was a nearly to scale replica of Glinda. Gently he passed it to Elphaba, who squished it into an amorphous blob before ingesting it. This was odd; everybody else had eaten their creation whole.

As the rest of the camp finished their meal, another flurry of activity erupted. The majority of the younger adults, both male and female, rose and began to walk towards the right side of the camp, disappearing one by one down a hill that neither Elphaba nor Fiyero had noticed before. The children had all risen and were now waving goodbye to them.

"_Mr. Fiyero_!" Fiyero looked around and discovered the source: Jaszo, one of the boys who had dressed him, was waving him over. "_Come see our fields_! _Mrs. Elphaba, you should come too_!" Elphaba and Fiyero looked at each other and rose, joining the throng, picking up speed along with them until they reached the ridge, where they had to stop.

The sight was breathtaking. The valley sparkled with green cactuses in neat rows, thousands of them, it seemed. Between the rows, strange animals grazed, the likes of which Elphaba and Fiyero had never seen: they were virtually hairless, with curled horns like Billy goats, and the most curious camel-like humps on their backs. But the best was the sight of the young men and women pouring into the valley, running at full tilt down the hill, whooping, kicking up sand. _Elation_, thought Fiyero. That was the feeling rising within him. He took Elphaba's hand and joined them, letting loose a few old Arjiki war whoops he had heard. Elphaba laughed loudly and clearly and, for the first time in a long time, happily.

_You know the routine. Please review, whether you liked it or not._

_Curlz_


	5. Chapter 5

_Bumped!! Thanks for the nice reviews!! This is a crazy chapter..._

_It has been a week,_ thought Elphaba. _A full week, and there's no talk of leaving yet._ She was relieved. Fiyero seemed to have forgotten all about the urgency to reach Ev. She was happy here. Occasionally at night, memories and regrets would resurface. She'd cried, but only a couple of times. The days were too busy for contemplation.

Adding to that, she had begun to understand the syllables and nuances of the Paniwawa language. She would rarely allow Fiyero to speak to her in Ozian anymore, and every so often she'd find herself eavesdropping on conversations. She knew her skin had darkened; it was now more akin to the deep forest green of the Quoxwood needles, and Fiyero's naturally dark skin had now deepened to a shade close to that of the Paniwawas. The heat no longer bothered her, but she was still grateful for the flimsy dress and tight braids.

An old woman was approaching the cooking fire, the spot where Elphaba had chosen to take her mid-afternoon rest. Elphaba had been waiting for this lady, Masiya. She was not the oldest woman on the camp, but she was the wisest, the virtual chief of the tribe. Once more, Elphaba went over the simple phrase she had constructed and had been rehearsing in her head for an hour, waiting until she could say it to Masiya.

"Sikko, danaai," Masiya chirped as she hung a precious pot of water on a post by the cooking fire. Elphaba blushed and smiled at the affectionate term.

"Jejeba," she responded. Then, with a deep breath, she launched into her prepared speech. "Ta maho diti kenni ti Baba ma." _That man says he is my father._ Elphaba knew it was abrupt, but she had been understood. Masiya looked at her sympathetically and sat on a rock beside her.

"_And you don't know if he is?"_

Watching her face carefully, Elphaba understood. _"No."_

"_Why not, _danaai?"

"_I had a father."_

"_Would you like to know what I think?"_ Elphaba nodded, mentally storing the new sentence structure even while curiosity took her over.

"_I think you are of him."_

Elphaba slumped, but she wasn't sure whether it was from relief or disappointment. However, Masiya wasn't finished.

"_This doesn't mean you are his. Remember that."_

The two sat in silence for a minute, Elphaba mulling the words over.

"_You know this? How?"_

Masiya patted her hand and stood up to leave. _"I saw it in the way he looked at you. He knew you. I saw it in his eyes."_

Emotion overwhelmed her, but she didn't cry. Masiya quietly slipped away, leaving her alone. Elphaba wasn't even sure how she felt. It certainly wasn't happy, but it wasn't overtly sad, either. It wasn't a shock, since she had had a week to digest the possibility. Maybe it was a relief to know the truth, or perhaps it was just the fact that the last tie to her family had been cut.

The sight of Hershlag waling towards her cheered her up slightly. His skin had not reacted with the sun as well as Fiyero's and Elphaba's had, and he gleamed red as a ruby, standing out more in this group than Elphaba did. To top it off, the sarong he had finally agreed to wear didn't suit him at all; his potbelly swung low over the top of his wrap, his spindly and wrinkled calves on proud display. The tribe treated him with respect and offered basic hospitality, but their kindness extended no further. Elphaba watched him carefully as he lowered himself onto a rock beside her, wincing. For fun, she contemplated slapping his shoulder to hear his hiss of pain. However, he looked at her calmly.

"Well?"

Elphaba sighed. "It doesn't matter. I had a father, and he was a disappointment."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "Like I said, it doesn't matter." She let a few seconds pass. "I'm of you, but I'm not yours," she repeated, almost to herself.

Hershlag nearly let loose a retort, but thought better of it. "I can live with that," was what he chose to say.

Elphaba guessed it was around 4:00 now, for activity was once again resuming. The children and elderly emerged from the tents, and the groups who had been sitting in the shady corners stood and stretched their limbs. A small group of men and women disappeared down the ridge to fetch dinner, and two other women linked arms and made their way to the well. Elphaba also stood and sauntered off to find Fiyero, who had lain down for a nap after a morning in the fields. His muscles had become defined and firm, and Elphaba could never help but run her hands along the curved surfaces of his arms as he slept. She was exploring the perimeter of the camp where she knew the shadows would be lying when the oddest voice reached her ear: a warbling, grating, Animalistic voice. Turning to find the source, she saw an entirely unexpected thing: a camel, pacing the magical barrier in agitation, wearing a small crested blanket over its hump. As she moved closer, he spoke again, and she realized that it was not a camel, but a Camel, calling impatiently for assistance.

Masiya appeared out of nowhere, reaching the Camel before it had noticed Elphaba. She realized with a start that it would be unsafe to be seen by any intelligent being. Quickly, she moved to the nearest growth and sat with her back to the camel, her ears open.

"Sikko Jejeba, _Mr. Camel_."

"Jejeba. _My name is Shahan, and I have a message from the leader of the Land of Oz to the leader of the Paniwawa tribe."_

Masiya shrugged. _"I suppose I am the leader of the tribe,"_ she replied.

"_Your name?"_

"_Masiya."_

The Camel cleared his throat. _"I, Lady Glinda Upland of the Arduennas, leader of the Land of Oz, Good Witch of the North, etc., extend warm greetings to you, Masiya, leader of the Paniwawa tribe, etc., and beg your ear for a few moments. As citizens of the Land of Oz, the Paniwawa people are fully entitled to each and every right detailed in the Oziad, including an audience with and aid from the right and honorable leader of Oz, rights that your people have not had access to for centuries. With your leave, I shall be visiting in four day's time with a small delegation to survey the land and hear concerns of the people. Please do not view this as an intrusion, but merely an extension of friendship. If there is any reason why I should delay the journey, please detail it to this noble courier. Otherwise, I look forward to meeting you and your people in four days' time. Yours sincerely, Glinda the Good, leader of the Land of Oz, Good Witch of the North, etc."_

Masiya nodded._ "Thank you."_

"_Is there anything I should take back to the Lady?"_

"_No, all is well. Please, Mr. Shahan, stay for dinner, or take some water."_

"_Thank you, Ma'am, but I have a long journey ahead of me."_ With that, the Camel turned on the spot and began to move in the other direction, hindquarters swaying hypnotically.

Elphaba had taken in a sharp breath at the first mention of Glinda's name, and with every passing sentence, her chest became unstable. She was hyperventilating now. Dust coated her throat and she began to cough, heaving, guttural wretches that seemed to want to eject her entire esophagus. As the she became lost in white noise, the calm, unresponsive core of her brain dully registered that this was what it was like to have a panic attack. She could barely feel the hands that were coaxing her onto her back, or the pressure on her chest, or the lips that sealed over hers. The white noise had nearly swallowed her whole when a fresh burst of donated oxygen pushed it back in one fell swoop, like a lantern in a dark room. Elphaba's eyes sprung open, and she saw Masiya's gentle and earnest face, her lips pursed, and air from her mouth brushing Elphaba's face slowly and rhythmically. Fighting her reflexes, she imitated Masiya until she no longer had to fight for breath. A water skin was produced and some of the cool liquid was squirted into her open mouth, but only a few drops. The fire in her throat was quenched. Masiya was rubbing her back now, muttering soothing words at a rapid pace. After Elphaba's breathing had regulated, Mayisa handed her the entire water skin, which she slurped thankfully.

"What happened?!" Fiyero's voice was loud and frantic as he rushed towards them. Elphaba nearly laughed at the look on his face, but she still felt weak after her attack.

"_It's ok,"_ she responded in the Paniwawa language.

"OK? What did I just see!?"

"_She fainted from the heat,"_ said Masiya calmly. _"She was dehydrated."_

"_Why did she need air?"_

Masiya shook her head. _"You didn't see correctly. I was bending down to check her breathing rate."_

In a flash, the Camel's words returned to Elphaba, and she nearly lost her breath again. "Fiyero, listen…"

"OW!" Fiyero had knelt in the sand beside Elphaba without noticing the cactus, and he was now nursing a needle embedded in his knee. Masiya deftly retrieved the intruder with her fingernail, casually flicking it away as she washed the area with the water from the skin. Aside from the initial shock, Fiyero had been able to control his reaction, and within seconds he turned to Elphaba again. "What were you saying?"

Elphaba paused. _"I'm fine. It's nothing." _Fiyero, however, was still looking at her suspiciously.

"_If you say so."_

Today, a desert vulture had flown low over the Paniwawa camp; such a rare occurrence hadn't gone unnoticed, and the vulture had been hunted down. Though it was an unusually big one, divided evenly between the tribe, there was barely enough to chew on for every person. After having been blessed, the tiny chunks of meat had been dropped to cook in a vat of grease. While the meat had been divided evenly between the tribe, the pre-flavored cooking grease had been used for the customary dinner, grilled _mukoa_, which was the strange hump-backed creature the tribe had formed a herd out of. As usual, the plate was garnished with strips of cactus, also grilled tonight. Dinner was unusually delicious, and yet Elphaba could taste none of it.

Her motives behind keeping it a secret were something she couldn't determine. She didn't want to leave, that was certain. She was happy, but she knew that she wouldn't be safe here for long. She missed Glinda, there was no doubt of that, and she was bursting with pride at the fact that her friend had risen to her challenge and earned leadership of Oz… and showing herself to Glinda would put them both in danger.

If only Glinda were coming alone. They could meet and be reconciled, and Glinda could go back to Oz with absolutely no change in the minds of the people. Of course, she wouldn't be coming alone. She'd most likely bring a few personal guards and a small band of dignitaries. The camp would be crawling with them. What would she do, hide in her tent and lure Glinda in there alone? _That's ridiculous. _That girl would never be alone.

How could she stand to be so close to Glinda without being able to speak with her?

How could she even consider leaving?

"Elphaba, are you sure you're all right?" Fiyero laid a hand on her arm, but she jerked it away. One of her grilled cactus strips landed in the dust.

"Damn." She bent to pick it up, but denounced it as ruined and stepped on it for good measure.

"Elphaba!" Something in Fiyero's voice seemed to wake her up, and as she turned she was caught off-guard by his big, sorrowful brown eyes.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry, Fiyero." _Idiot._ Would this be how the next four days would go? She had to get a grip. "I've just been thinking about… things."

"What kind of things?"

Elphaba shrugged, and Fiyero didn't press her. "You know, you've done fabulously with the language. You're almost fluent."

"I guess I have a knack."

The majority of the tribe had finished with their dinner, and preparations were being made for the night's customary festivities. Though Elphaba had never been a partier to begin with, she had looked forward to the dancing every night – there was a primordial element to it that made her intensely happy – but tonight, she had absolutely no energy for joviality. She rose and dragged her feet en route to the dishwashing basin. A familiar red-glowing body moved towards her, and she quickened her pace, not in the mood for another emotional revelation. Plus, she still hated him, somewhat. Or if she didn't hate him, she resented him ferociously. Often, she remembered with a start that he was the reason the two were in exile… but it was hard to wallow when the situation had turned out so well.

Somehow, though, Hershlag had managed to grab the spot next to Elphaba around the basin. Rolling her eyes, she plunged her arm into the warm depths to scoop a fistful of the gritty desert sand off the bottom of the basin. As she straightened, she caught sight of Hershlag staring at her, mouth open.

"What on earth…" Then, Elphaba took notice of her own drenched arm. "Oh, for the love of Oz, you didn't _actually_ think—"

"No, no. Of course not." If possible, his face grew even redder, and he lowered himself over the basin to hide it. As soon as he had submerged his raw, burnt arm, though, he yelped and withdrew it, hissing.

"Oh, how the tables have turned," she remarked as she dumped the mud onto her plate and began to rub it in lazy circles over the greasy surface.

"My dear…"

"_Don't_ call me that!" Mud splattered across his face and Elphaba realized just how frantic her arm gesture had been, but she didn't apologize. "Don't think you're off the hook."

Hershlag waffled under his breath. "Of course… I might have expected… completely understandable."

"How's the balloon coming?"

Hershlag paused a moment in his scrubbing. "Why?"

"Because you need to leave. Now, or tomorrow, but soon."

"Why the sudden urgency?"

The story was long and complicated. Elphaba tried to condense it into something simpler, and when that failed she tried to fabricate something, but she shrugged her shoulders and gave up. "Don't you feel you've outstayed your welcome?"

Hershlag looked comically affronted. "Outstayed my what? What about you?"

Elphaba rolled her eyes. "Yes, us too. Whatever. But you have a considerably longer way to go. All we have to do is cross the desert."

"Well, I don't think I'll ever get back to where I came from. Sorry."

"What are you talking about?"

"I… I don't know how."

Elphaba rinsed her plate and watched the grains of sand drift to the bottom of the basin again. "How did you get here, then?"

"Purely by accident. I thought you knew that."

_Damn._ She had known it. "Maybe you'll get back the same way, then."

"Maybe," he agreed. "Unfortunately, my balloon's irreparable. Good night."

Elphaba watched him walk away for three seconds before she realized what he had just said. "Ex_cuse_ me?" She raced at him, grabbed him firmly by the shoulders and directed him into a tiny, dark space in between two tents. Then, she turned him around and looked him in the eye. "What do you mean irreparable?"

"My d… Elphaba, the burner was shattered upon landing. The balloon won't fly without it, and I can't repair it without a full metal shop. Even then…"

Elphaba growled with frustration as she involuntary smacked her hands down on Hershlag's shoulders, and the old man crumpled at her feet. "You've waited until _now_ to tell me this?!" But Hershlag had been reduced to a cowering, whimpering mess.

"P-p-please… don't kill me…"

Elphaba had to laugh. "Get up, you fool." Roughly, she hauled him to his feet. "Where is your balloon?"

The damaged burner was nowhere near what Elphaba had been imagining. Truly, it was just a clean crack right through the middle of the entire apparatus, still held in one piece, although she could see how a welding tool might be necessary. _Might_ being the operative word, she thought, as she warmed her palms against each other.

"Ok, wiz, tell me what needs to be done."

"Well… well, you see this tubing? It needs to be re-assembled, but maintain its shape. That is, it needs to stay hollow."

For a few more seconds, Elphaba studied the coiled steel tube. Then, she worked the crack apart until she could squeeze the palm of her hand between the two halves. The metal bit into the back and front of her right hand, but she barely winced. After a few seconds of intense concentration, the parts of the metal that touched her skin began to glow red. Elphaba carefully removed her hand and pushed the two halves together, holding them in place until the glow had receded. Standing up, she motioned for Hershlag to have a look.

After a minute of careful inspection, he looked back at her, amazed. "That's quite the trick."

"I have more. But we'll finish it tomorrow."

Hershlag nodded. "Tomorrow."

_I'm sorry, I don't have a pithy remark to put here. All I can say is, review. You know._

_Curlz_


	6. Chapter 6

_How fitting - an update on Halloween, and I carved a "Wicked" pumpkin to celebrate the day!! I might put up a picture on photobucket, or as my avatar or something, because it's pretty fantastic._

_Without further ado:_

Elphaba was never one to hate something because it involved hard work, but an hour into the job and she was sure she loathed hot air ballooning. Of course, there would never be a need for such an apparatus, since she had the levitation spell memorized, but the concept was absurd: a long flame jutting up into a gargantuan silk bag, which would then cause the tiny little basket tied onto the bottom to rise. Slow, cumbersome, and an uncomfortable way to travel, not to mention the fact that the burner was the clunkiest Neanderthal design she could imagine. It didn't take her long at all to see where the sheer amount of metal could be cut down, but it wasn't her job to redesign it, only to fix it.

Of course, the job was more complicated than it initially appeared to be, but Elphaba had expected that. There were times when she needed to crack a piece further to get to what laid behind it, and she made dozens of mistakes. Her hands were chapped and raw from rubbing against harsh bits of metal, and now the heat being transferred out of her body was starting to drain her a little. Still, she soldiered on, intent on getting Hershlag to leave. Now, though, she had to stop. She had taken with her a small scoop of cooking fat for lubrication purposes, and she sat back, rubbing the white goo all over and into her hands. "Why did you leave the Emerald City?"

Hershlag looked shocked at the question. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Not entirely."

"Truth be told, I was banished."

"By whom?"

"That Glinda of yours."

Elphaba was stunned. She chuckled incredulously to herself. "She banished you? How?"

"Well, it was either that or she'd throw me in jail."

"And she would have the power to do that? What about your allies?"

"She'd already arrested Morrible…"

It was more than a chuckle now. Elphaba was laughing triumphantly, her eyes sparkling dangerously. "That's incredible!"

Hershlag smiled uneasily. "Yes, she's quite the firecracker."

In spite of herself, Elphaba let curiosity take hold of her. "How was she holding up when you left?"

"You know, I'd always thought of her as a silly girl, but boy, does she know how to control a mob. It was all smiles and cheer. But, and I don't think anybody noticed, she never once spoke against the Wicked Witch of the West. Really, she never said that combination of words, while I heard her, that is. She'd talk about the – what was that phrase? – 'The wicked workings of You Know Who.' I could tell that she was talking about Morrible and I, and the crowd thought she was talking about… well, you. In fact, some of the things she said almost worked to excuse you. There was that Shakespeare quote she retooled for the occasion: 'Are people born _wicked_, or do they have wickedness thrust upon them?' You know?"

Elphaba couldn't think of a thing to say. "Shakespeare?"

"Famous writer back in my world. I'm sure you would enjoy him."

"But she didn't try to clear my name or anything?"

Hershlag shook his head slowly. "It's funny that the citizens of Oz never noticed how vague she was about the whole occasion. People hear what they want to hear."

The grease had now been absorbed entirely, and her hands were no longer protesting, but Elphaba simply could not gather the will to take up the job again. "I'm hungry. We'll continue… later."

After Hershlag's bit of information, Elphaba's mood had been rising steadily. She tried not to think about her friend's imminent arrival, but whenever she did, she made herself appear anxious… in reality, she was excited. She chastised herself for handling the situation so poorly, but she couldn't work up any true feelings of guilt.

That night, the maximum amount of work possible had been completed on the burner; it was time now to let the work set in preparation for the final push tomorrow. Elphaba was tired, but satisfied, as she munched her mukoa and fried cactus.

She was in the mood for dancing tonight, and she pulled Fiyero into the thick ring around the drummers at the base of the totem pole. The dancers moved as one, appearing like a pulsating mass from the outside. They changed their styles, depending on the beat of the music. Finally, as the moon perched dead centre in the glittering sky, the pace changed entirely. The drummers moved their hands in soft, slow patterns. The oldest among them took a deep breath before letting his warm, chocolaty voice free through his open mouth. As with every song, the words were entirely improvised, yet they flowed together so beautifully that Elphaba had tears in her eyes as she and Fiyero turned to face each other, becoming synchronized with each other, moving in lazy waves together. _"Longing for the golden moon, my lady Peacock sighs. I wish to fly up to the stars and sing my love for you. I'll sing my love for you while dancing on the moon, and my song will float down from the heavens into your ears. Into your ears it will float, and into the ears of the earth, and Mother Earth will hear it, and bless us and our love."_

The verse finished, the singer sat back and concentrated on his soft drumming. Throughout the camp, couples young and old swayed in each other's arms. Elphaba had her back pressed against Fiyero's chest, his hands wrapped around her front, caressing her forearms. She tilted her head back into the crook between Fiyero's neck and shoulder, sighing with pleasure, hypnotized by the rhythm of their bodies. Gently, Fiyero took hold of her hands and turned her lazily and slowly until she was facing him, wrapping her once again into his arms.

"Elphie," he whispered quietly.

"Hm?"

"Will you marry me?"

Time froze. The music stopped, and Elphaba looked at Fiyero, eyes wide, and her mind totally white, and she was paralyzed. It was an incredible tableau.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the moment was over. The drum beat started again, fast and exhilarating, with each of the drummers adding their voice to the song. The dancers were wheeling and laughing, a laugh that Elphaba added her voice to. Her smile stretched from ear to ear, and she threw her head back triumphantly. Fiyero joined her in her mirth, and he hoisted her into his arms as they whirled in a passionate kiss.

"Yes."

Once again, they joined the circle, bounding and spinning into oblivion.

_A shrewd, anonymous reviewer by the name of "bardolator" reviewed chapter 4 and said: "__So far the characters seem, to me, to be an in-character cross between the book and the musical (Fiyero in particular seems to be a combination, for some reason)." This is an interesting point, so I shall elaborate on it a wee. Technically, I like the characters in the book better, they were a little more believable. I especially liked how Maguire highlighted the different ethnicities of Oz, and obviously I'm doing a bit of that here. I'm sorry, I hate the idea of a blonde Fiyero; I saw a picture of a black man playing Fiyero and it looked absolutely perfect. However, obviously this is Musicalverse since Elphaba and Fiyero are alive and well. So think: bookverse characters (except for the Wizard), musicalverse situation._

_You probably were not interested in that ramble whatsoever so I'll just end with the usual: Hope you liked it! REVIEW! Please._

_Curlz_


	7. Chapter 7

_Bumped! Enjoy!_

As consciousness slowly returned, the events of the past night came back to Elphaba. A warm glow radiated from the pit of her stomach.

"Yeeeeero…"

She rolled over, intent on snuggling, but ended up rolling all the way to the opposite side of the bed, not encountering a single body. Confused, she forced her eyelids open, snapping them shut again at the blinding light that was entering through the tiny smoke hole in the top of the tent. Gradually this time, she worked them open and distinguished the figures that had gathered around her bedside as the elderly ladies from the tribe.

"What?"

They giggled.

Masiya now leaned over the bed, a huge smile on her face. _"We were ecstatic when we heard the news, _danaai._ You will be a beautiful Paniwawa bride."_

Elphaba smiled warily.

Breakfast was brought in on a tray, and the ladies squawked excitedly about clothes and preparations and oh, how wonderful, the first wedding this season. Elphaba had never been doted on before, and was feeling terribly uncomfortable. After breakfast, the ladies coaxed her out of the bed, and before she could stop them, her thin black tunic had been slipped off over her head.

She stood there, entirely exposed and speechless, clutching at her chest and clenching her thighs. The women clucked sympathetically, evidently trying to calm her by caressing her back and arms, but Elphaba pulled away, feeling hot. _"Masiya," _she murmured. _"Masiya, what is this?"_ Masiya approached, holding the blanket from the bed, and while Elphaba appreciated the gesture, she couldn't help but feel betrayed.

"_I'm sorry, _danaai_, I should have prepared you. The day before the marriage is the day that the future bride and groom are prepared for the commitments of marriage and childbearing."_

"_But why this?"_ Elphaba had managed to cover her entire body, from the chin down, with the blanket, and she always kept an eye on the dress, being passed around and tsk-ed at by the circle of crones.

"_My dear, you know as well as I that the body is an integral part of childbearing."_

Elphaba nearly dropped the sheet. _"You…" _She opened and closed her mouth, unable to articulate her deductions, even with her vocabulary in her mother tongue.

Masiya approached her, but maintained a respectful distance. _"I'm sorry. Let's try this again. Ladies, give the poor girl back her clothes. We'll go through our schedule for the day. Come, have a seat with me."_

Gratefully, Elphaba pulled on the dress, still glaring at the old hags. _"Where's Fiyero?"_

"_He's being taken care of as well. So, traditionally, the day before a Paniwawa wedding involves lots of meditation, as well as physical examination." _Elphaba cringed. _"You will sit down with both me and Maklo, the magic man, for these sessions. However, only I will examine you. Then, since you're new to the Paniwawa traditions, we will walk you through the marriage process, and then you'll wash and retire."_

Elphaba wasn't exactly regretting her acceptance of Fiyero's proposal, but she was trying to think of ways to get out of this. Heart-to-hearts were uncomfortable enough, but add to that the language barrier that still existed in some form and the thought of them was as foreboding as a jaunt across hot coals. And this… this "examination"? Elphaba didn't want to think of the places Masiya would want to examine. She opted for the meditation first, biding her time until she could find a way to excuse herself from the examination ordeal. Thankfully, the old ladies were shown from the tent, and Elphaba and Masiya faced each other cross-legged on the pallet.

"_Ok, _danaai_. Let's get started. Why precisely did you agree to Fiyero's marriage proposal?"_

"_Because I love him, and he loves me, and we want to spend the rest of our lives together."_

"_Do you feel any duty towards him?"_

Elphaba thought for a moment. _"We owe each other our lives. I have to keep him safe. I need to protect him."_

Masiya smiled gently. _"That's interesting. Normally, the woman depends on the man to keep her safe."_

"_Well, we're not a normal couple. I'm magical, and he isn't. He's in more danger than I am." _Masiya stayed silent, and Elphaba took this as her cue to continue. _"But he's my emotional rock. He helps me to forget, he shelters me from myself."_

"_What does he help you to forget?"_

This would never do. The purpose of the exercise was to be as completely honest as possible, or so Elphaba guessed. She couldn't answer that last question without sparking a whole new host of problems, problems that couldn't be discussed now. Elphaba shrugged, hoping that Masiya would think she had not meant much behind her last sentence.

"_What do you think Fiyero's duties are to you, then?"_

"_Like I said, he's my emotional rock."_

A few more seconds passed, with Elphaba at a complete loss for words. Finally, Masiya gently interjected.

"_How about fathering your children? Working to support the family? Building you a home?"_

Elphaba stared blankly. How had she not thought of any of those things? A family? A home? With Fiyero? Did she really expect him to be that committed to her? Truthfully, she had barely expected Fiyero to propose to her, and even now, she wouldn't be surprised at all if he left her. She doubted she would even be very offended. _"I haven't really thought about the future. We're still trying to work out the present."_

Masiya looked a little troubled, and changed the topic. _"Tell me about your mother."_

This was touchy. _"She was a beautiful, silly woman, from a good family. She didn't pay an awful lot of attention to us, we had nursemaids for that. She was the mysterious, beautiful lady of the house. I never felt like I was hers."_

"_And how was her relationship with your father?"_

Good god. _"She wasn't faithful to him. I know that for a fact now, obviously, but I suspected it after I was old enough to understand adult relationships. He suspected, or outright new, I think. She acted more like his defiant daughter than his wife."_

"_What kind of a mother would you like to be to your children?"_

"_Not like my mother."_ But that was all Elphaba could think of to say. Masiya waited a moment longer for her to continue, but she seemed satisfied with that answer.

"_Very well. It is my turn, now, to talk."_

What followed was a long monologue of the entire history of the Paniwawa tribe, from the perspective of a woman. Masiya sang through some of it, and Elphaba found herself laughing and crying at parts of the story, as though she was experiencing it for herself. As Masiya repeated the final sentence, Elphaba felt like a true Paniwawa woman, strong and bold, loving and gentle, proud of her heritage. Everything else previously occupying her brain had been relegated into a small box in the corner of her skull. She took a deep breath, smiled, and opened her mouth to speak with full confidence.

"_When I have children, I shall treat them with the unconditional love that they deserve. I shall always keep their best interests at heart. I shall teach them everything I know so that they may live fulfilling lives when I am no longer there to take care of them. I shall help them to create strong hearts so they will make the best choices for themselves and their children after they have grown."_

"_And if they displease you?"_

"_I'll show them the errors of their ways, but I will always forgive."_

Masiya smiled with tears in her eyes as the two women embraced.

Unnoticed by them, one of the old ladies had slipped into the tent during the embrace, erected a complicated structure using a stool and an overturned pot, and left. Elphaba stared at the contraption curiously until she caught her reflection in the bottom of the pot. The angle optimized the light in the tent, throwing every detail of her face into sharp relief; even the acne scars that she thought had disappeared were now visible. Remembering Masiya's hints towards an examination, Elphaba put two and two together. But now, there seemed to be no urgency to skip it. Against her will, she was actually… curious.

At Masiya's instruction, she lay across the pallet, spreading her knees until the air coolly grazed the moist skin between her thighs. A heap of pillows had been prepared, and she found herself staring at the last thing she'd expected: a green flower, overwhelmed by the fresh air and light, yet slowly gaining confidence. Masiya sat beside Elphaba and explained to her the wonders of the female body.

Changeover time. Elphaba felt empowered now as she walked across the camp to Maklo's tent. She was entirely alone, as the changeover time was a period for the bride-to-be to reflect on what she had just discovered and prepare herself for what she would learn next. Everybody who was in the grounds at the time stopped and stared at Elphaba, grinning and waving, yet not daring to approach her.

Her mother or any of her nurses had had no clue about the female body; that was the only excuse Elphaba could dream up for them not sharing the wonders with her. Where that spot before had been a source of mess or dark secrets, it was now so many things: a heavenly gate, a rose, and it carried the only part of anatomy, on a male or female, solely dedicated to pleasure. Why had it shamed her before?

Elphaba smiled when she saw Fiyero walking towards her. She wasn't sure if they were allowed to talk, but as they met in the centre, she couldn't help herself.

"Where were you this morning?"

"Ah… early morning exercises."

"Poor thing."

"Why, what have you been doing?"

"Lazing about in a tent all day."

They nearly ducked in to kiss, but the stares of the Paniwawas stopped them.

"We should probably move on."

It had been pitch black that morning when a hand had been clamped over Fiyero's mouth. Hands pinned his limbs together before he could fight back, and he was carried in that stiff posture right out of the tent door, through the camp, and into a small, dark tent in a corner he had never noticed before. The moon had set, and the air was wintry. Fiyero was frigid and mortally afraid. Then, without warning, he was turned vertically and placed on his feet.

The hand came off his mouth, and he found that his abductors were the young men of the Paniwawa tribe, adorned with ceremonial scarves and jewels, grinning like fools. Fiyero looked around the tent and saw that it was very well decorated, but nothing significant was displayed, except for a five-foot-tall something covered with a sheet. In walked Maklo in full ceremonial garb, complete with a feathered headdress with a diameter of two meters. He raised his arms out to the side, his robe stretching to resemble overgrown batwings.

"_Fiyero, here we stand in the fraternity tent. You are to become a brother and son of the Paniwawa tribe in preparation for_ _the making of your eternal vow of servitude to your bride to be."_

Fiyero blinked. "What?"

This wasn't the answer Maklo had been prepared for.

"_Today, you shall become enlightened to all the aspects of masculinity, as well as femininity. You shall learn of the sacred processes of marriage and childbearing. You shall become a man!"_

"_As opposed to…"_

Before anybody had noticed the sarcastic tone of his voice, the cover was whipped off the five-foot-tall something. Every man in the room bowed and sang a few words of praise. For nearly half a minute, Fiyero stared at it, confused, as everyone else waited for Fiyero to react. Finally, something clicked. Fiyero's mind shrank the image in front of him to one-hundredth of its size, and he recognized the curves, slopes and folds of a…

A grinding noise disrupted the thought process, but Fiyero couldn't look away. He felt like a pervert just for standing in the same room as that… thing. Right on cue, another thing, even larger than the first, was shoved directly in his line of vision. Fiyero grew apprehensive as he imagined just what was under the blanket, and his worst fears were confirmed as the cloth was whipped off. Bow, bow, mumble, mumble, laugh.

"_Task number one shall now begin. You, Fiyero, shall enable these two gods, Alemni and Farko, to bear children."_

Two deities, represented only by reproductive organs? _What kind of a tribe is this?_ The phallus was laid on its side, the tip of it pointing toward its feminine counterpart. Gritting his teeth, Fiyero began to drag Farko towards Alemni, the distance between the two stretching out before him.

Elphaba poked her head through the tent flap. _"Maklo?"_

"_Come in, Daughter, come in."_

Elphaba complied nervously. While Masiya had been a motherly figure from day one, Maklo was a beacon on stern authority – which, according to Elphaba's experience, actually made him a father figure than Masiya was a mother figure.

"_Take a seat. Today you have already learned the woman's role in life, but a married woman must understand the husband as well as he understands himself, if not better."_

Elphaba was considerably under whelmed by Maklo's oration, which was basically a repeat of Masiya's story from a male perspective. _If that's what Fiyero was doing all morning,_ she thought as she exited the tent, _I certainly don't envy him._

Fiyero and Elphaba were separated again for the evening, Fiyero set up in the Fraternity tent, and Elphaba taking the guest tent. Supper was given to them, and after a bit of instruction on how the next day would work, they bathed and retired. As people exited their tents, they were overcome with longing for each other. Their meeting in the camp hadn't been enough. They drifted off to sleep fitfully, squirming with anticipation…

_You'd all best be squirming with anticipation!!_

_Curlz_

_PS: In between updates I decided to post a one-shot that has been written for a while, and I decided I liked it enough to share. It's called Elphaba's Monument and it's bookverse. You might enjoy it._


	8. Chapter 8

_Bumped! And in record time, too!_

Elphaba hadn't a clue of what her wedding garb was to look like. Lacking a mirror, all she was aware of was the length of silky, cream-colored fabric wound again and again down her torso and thighs in some strange plait-like pattern. She had tried to assist the ladies, twisting her torso to accommodate them, but every time she moved she found herself clumsily in the way. Now, she stood straight and unmoving, arms extended.

Finally, the corner of the length was tucked seamlessly in, and one of the ladies produced an unbelievably long strand of glass jewels. The facets were most certainly not as crisp as they had been, but they had been polished until they shone like diamonds. Elphaba stood in awe as the strand was wound around her body, mirroring the pattern of the fabric.

Next, she was led over to the pallet and made to sit. The ladies gathered behind her, undoing her braids efficiently. One by one, strands of black hair hit her shoulders, feeling alien. One fell across her eye, coarse and frizzy. An examination with her hand revealed that her entire head of hair was like that. After the braids were out, a bottle of oil was brought over, and her head was attacked with a harshly toothed comb. As her hair became greasier, the frizz was wrestled under control, and the long strands stayed where they were laid. Satisfied that they had oiled her into submission, the braiding resumed, tighter this time, yet just as efficient. Instead of braiding down, however, they seemed to be aiming for the crown of her head.

A pallet of paints was brought over; makeup, it seemed. Elphaba shied away from the brush that lingered ominously close to her eyelid, but the sympathetic clucks from her beauticians agitated her even more. She allowed herself to be painted, the swirls covering her face in black, white, and silver.

The veil came last: an incredible feathered sheet, contoured to the head and shoulders. The bun they had created was fed through a gap in the feathers, and Elphaba was finally allowed to stand. A system of pots was set up to catch the light, mirroring Elphaba's ensemble from every angle. Elphaba took one look and nearly burst into tears of gratitude.

There were no sleeves, and the cloth criss-crossed over her bust, covering it completely. Her waist and stomach were barely covered, triangles of green pointing towards her navel. The solidity was then resumed down over her loins, to her mid-thigh, still maintaining that crosshatched pattern. There was a slight flare at the bottom of the skirt, allowing her to walk with ease. The string of beads followed the pattern of the cloth exactly, causing her to sparkle whichever way she turned. The loosely woven feathers framed her face and cascaded over her shoulders like a head of hair. Her actual hair had been braided in swirls and waves, and the bun at the crown took a very curious shape; the ends of the braids stuck straight out, symbolizing (she guessed) the sun. But her makeup – oh, her makeup! Gentle swirls finished off the corners of her eyes and lips. Her eyelids were rimmed in black, and her lips were entirely painted silver. Mystical symbols adorned her cheeks and forehead; gentle undulating lines of silver and white played over her limbs and exposed stomach. Elphaba looked to the ceiling, trying to banish the tears back into her head, fearful of ruining her makeup.

It was noon as Elphaba emerged from the tent, squinting from the sun. Women and girls had been anticipating her appearance, and they cheered excitedly when she appeared. Elphaba blushed and grinned, accepting for once that she looked… well, presentable. (In reality, she was stunning, but she could never have admitted that to herself.) As the crowd dissipated a bit, however, she gasped. Spiraling around the totem pole was a length of the same silky material that she wore, a long string of glass beads laid on top, and a gigantic square table formed the perimeter of the party space. _Where do they stash these things?_

Across the camp, a more masculine cheer rose, and Elphaba guessed that Fiyero had stepped out, as well. She tried to catch sight of him, but the well-wishers obstructed her view. Flashing an obligatory smile, she began to move forward.

"_Where are you going?"_ asked Masiya.

"_I'm going to see Fiyero."_

"_Ahh… no."_

"_What?"_

"_The bride and groom are kept separated until the evening."_

Elphaba snorted, but she had to admit the arrangement made some sort of twisted sense: if the idea was to conceive a child on the wedding night, well, she certainly felt up to that task.

Elphaba was brought to a seat along the great table, a seat that was padded with a sandbag. Lunch was set before her: cured mukoa and cactus salad, complete with both water and cactus wine. The middle-aged and older women smiled at her fondly, while the younger girls, especially the teenagers, stared at her attire with awe. Elphaba had a hard time eating while being stared at, which was a shame, since someone had certainly taken an extra effort.

After she had declared herself finished (in reality, she had snuck forkfuls to some of the little girls under the table), she was shunted back into her tent, which had been tidied from the morning's preparations. Waiting for her there was the most unlikely person: Hershlag.

"What are you doing here?" she asked icily. His presence in her tent was alien and rather unwelcome on such a celebratory day. He seemed to cower under her glare.

"I actually am not sure. I was brought in here by that one." As he said this, he subtly pointed at Masiya and gave Elphaba a knowing wink, which infuriated her.

"Masiya? She's been like a mother to me."

Hershlag was once again flustered. "Of course, yes. No offense meant."

Masiya now stepped forward from the corner of the tent, sensing tension. _"At this point in the day, the daughter asks the parents one last time for permission to wed. The parents would give their formal blessing."_

Elphaba laughed mirthlessly. _"I'm not his. What he says has no bearing on whether or not I marry Fiyero."_

"What's going on?"

"_It's tradition. Naturally, we normally would have both parents, and then you would ask Fiyero's parents for their son's hand, but we're making due with this."_ Masiya's tone was pleading, so Elphaba sighed and gave in.

"Listen, I'm supposed to be asking your permission to get married."

"Married?" Hershlag's eyes were wide. "To whom, the scarecrow?"

"Oh, for the love of…" Elphaba clasped her hands together and took a deep breath. "By the way, I'm getting married today. Yes, to the scarecrow. His name is _Fiyero_, by the way. You are daft. But, since you're my… ugh… _father_, they'd like you to give me your blessing." Hershlag opened his mouth, but she cut him off. "It doesn't matter to me, of course, but they want to hear it. So, a simple 'yes' will suffice."

"I'm glad I could be here for this, my dear!"

"Hershlag!"

"Yes, I'm sorry, you have my blessing." He rose and stood on tiptoe, obviously trying to get to eye-level. "You look… lovely." He stood tensely for a moment before leaning forward and awkwardly wrapping his arms around her. Elphaba stiffened, but didn't smack him off as instincts told her to. Thankfully, Hershlag broke the hug abruptly. Elphaba nodded to Masiya, who then steered him out of the tent. Immediately, a lady with a brush raced over to touch up the makeup that Hershlag had smudged.

Fiyero wasn't as comfortable in his attire as Elphaba was. His wrap was woven in the same pattern as Elphaba's skirt, but Fiyero's stayed tight to his thighs instead of flaring out like Elphaba's. His also had the addition of a frontal flap, embroidered liberally with the glass beads and hung loosely down the middle. The woven feathers were arranged like a tiny cape over his shoulders, and his body had also been painted with the white and silver.

After lunch, he was escorted back into the tent, and offered a seat. For the longest time, he and Maklo rested silently and a little awkwardly, waiting, for what he didn't know.

His question was answered when Maklo huffed, stomped out of the tent, and reentered, towing Hershlag in his wake, cowering as Maklo growled uselessly at him.

"_You idiotic thing, she told you to walk across the camp, not take a detour!"_

"I'm sorry…" Hershlag spoke loudly and annunciated the words, trying fruitlessly to be understood. "I'm SORRY, I got turned around and…"

"_You disgust me."_

"I didn't know there would be women in there, you can't blame me!"

Maklo pushed him forward roughly, irritating Hershlag's omnipresent sunburn. Then, he turned to Fiyero, who was trying very hard not to laugh. _"According to tradition, you must now ask for his daughter's hand."_ Fiyero tried to respond, but Maklo cut him off. _"I know, he's a pig who's shown up at the last minute, but it's part of the service, so swallow your pride and do it."_

Fiyero nodded, rolling his eyes. "_All right._ You," he said, rounding on Hershlag, who slouched further. "I'm marrying your daughter."

"And I'm perfectly happy about that."

Fiyero turned to Maklo. _"Is that good enough?"_

Maklo nodded, smiling.

The next bit of the festivities rolled around as the sun sank to the 5:00 pm point, but it was really only at 3:00; the tribe had used that pull-down trick to great success. Elphaba was set up outside her tent door and provided with beverages to tide her over. Fiyero was stationed exactly across from her. The tribes people formed a giant circle around the giant table, and rotated it slowly as each of them gave took turns wishing them well. They both heard a wide variety of tidbits, from tips on how to ignore a nagging spouse to well-reputed sexual positions. This lasted for over two hours, but the lighting barely changed; apparently, celestial rotation slowed until everything was once again in sync.

The circle dispersed, and the people mingled as they each found places around the table. Elphaba was brought forward a few steps, same with Fiyero, and they were each made to sit. Food was served to them, and they tried to make eye contact as they ate, but this was difficult, as well-wishers interrupted them every few minutes. For the first time during the course of their stay, something dessert-like was provided: a scoop of the cactus dough that was provided for breakfast, but vamped with some sugar-like substance, and cheese curds from the mukoa milk. The sheer amount of combinations these people managed to create from two resources was astounding, and every option was given tonight. No wonder waste had been a concern when the truth about Hershlag was revealed; these people really went all-out.

The fiery ball disappeared into the sandy eternity, the glow still emanating overhead; and dinner was done. Masiya led Elphaba to the totem pole through a gap in the table, with a stream of people following them, jostling for the best position. Fiyero stood at the pole, waiting for her, and they stared at each other tensely, unsure of whether or not they were allowed to touch or speak. Maklo took Fiyero's right hand and raised it to nearly shoulder-height, and Masiya took Elphaba's left and draped it over Fiyero's. They gestured to the couple to look around them: the people of the tribe had arranged themselves in a multi-layered circle around the totem pole.

A drumbeat rose from the centre, a soft rhythmic pulsing that seemed to mimic their hearts. Voices joined the beat; a man and a woman, a wordless expression of exaltation. Elphaba and Fiyero were led inside the first layer, comprised of men and women their own age and younger. After a full turn, they slipped through a gap in that layer and began their walk through the next, a ring of young families with newborns. Every layer housed an older family with more children until the children disappeared, and just the elderly remained. Finally, the two were led around the outside of the circle, against the wrinkled backs of the oldest of the tribe, until they came to a split that led directly to the front of the totem pole.

Elphaba couldn't decipher what was being said during the ceremony, and she guessed that Fiyero couldn't either. They faced each other, hands clasped, staring deeply into each other's dark eyes, lulled by the rhythm of Maklo's voice, hanging in a time slip. It was impossible to tell where one hand ended and the other began. Finally, Maklo spoke in the common tongue.

"Borrow the moonlight until it is through to show your love for just one night."

A white glow spread over Fiyero's neck and cheeks, starting out soft and intensifying, until he looked to be standing over a white fire. Elphaba too felt a warm light on her face. She looked down at their clasped hands and gasped. Beams of light shot out from between their interlaced fingers, from anywhere their flesh touched. It was terrifying and beautiful. As their hands twitched, so did the rays of light. Fiyero began to slide his hands up her arms, watching as the glow followed his hands all the way up to her cheeks. Then, they clutched each other, lighting the camp, as the glow from their conjoined lips probed through their closed eyes.

A path right to their tent door had been cleared for them, and they ran along it, clutching each other as the people of the tribe reached to touch them. Wide smiles and cheers greeted them, and they both laughed with elation.

A veritable love nest had been prepared in their tent. They collapsed on top of their pallet, still in awe of themselves. Fiyero lifted the veil off her head, and with one magically-impregnated toss of her head, Elphaba managed to dislodge her hair into rolling waves of black. Fiyero ran his fingers through the strands, lighting the tent. "See how bright we shine?"

Elphaba smiled, sighed, and began to undo her wedding garb.

_So I don't know if any of you have been keeping score at home, but it's been three days... AHHH_

_Curlz_


	9. Chapter 9

_Can I just say that I've never had this many reviews on a story? Well, a story I haven't deleted, that is. And, without further ado, on with it!_

Elphaba gasped and sat up as searing heat from the sun hit her face like a pillow. The tent had filled with cruel, probing light, and she screwed her eyes tight as the tears came. Beside her, Fiyero shifted and groaned. Gradually, Elphaba became aware to the presence of someone at the door. "What is it," she muttered, her voice cracking.

"_Mrs. Elphaba, it's noon. You need to wake up. We have a visitor!"_

As she had righted herself, the thin blanket had fallen off her, exposing her chest. Elphaba pulled it up again forcefully. _"Noon? What visitor?"_

Masiya tossed in Elphaba's dress and Fiyero's wrap. _"Please dress. Hurry. It's terribly disrespectful if the whole tribe doesn't greet visitors."_

Elphaba furiously rubbed her face. _"But we're not part of the tribe."_

"_You are now."_ The tent flap swung shut, blocking out the light, and Elphaba tipped back onto the pallet, moaning.

She and Fiyero had spent the entire night exploring each other's bodies; never tiring of the light they created together. Every so often, they would feed each other from the meal left in their room. Only as the sun began to rise and the moonlight effect wore off did they drift off to sleep, snuggled together under the blanket. Now, it was hot and sticky, unpleasantly so. Elphaba's hair was disheveled and greasy, and her makeup had smudged unflatteringly. There was a large washbasin across the room, and she hobbled over to it.

Behind her, Fiyero sat up. "What time is it?"

"Noon."

"Well, good afternoon then, Mrs. Tiggular. Or do you prefer Thropp-Tiggular?"

"No Thropp-ing, please."

"Elphaba Thropp-Tiggular. Elphaba Tiggular. Fiyero Thropp-Tiggular."

"What?"

"Well, it's a tradition we could start."

The water was a shimmering silver colour now, and her skin was tinted with an overall pearly sheen, but she supposed that was the best she could do. "No Thropp. And it's your turn to wash up."

"Why?"

"Didn't you hear Masiya? They expect our presence. They're greeting a guest today."

"Another one." Fiyero stretched and yawned as he stood.

There wasn't much Elphaba could do with her hair. She pulled it back tightly to braid it, before wrapping the braid into the smallest knot she could force it into, and then holding it in place with her hand as she picked through their love nest to find something, anything, she could use to secure it.

Fiyero's skin boasted the same issue as Elphaba's, no matter how diligently he scrubbed at it with a towel. Giving up, he tore a long, thin strip off of the towel, obviously intending it as a hair tie. Elphaba reached for the strip gratefully, but Fiyero walked around the back of her, gently replacing her hand with his own as he wound the strip tightly around the knot before tying it off. Elphaba turned and kissed him quietly and deeply, and time froze.

The spell was broken, though, as Masiya poked her head in. She looked panicked. They both grabbed for their clothes, covering their nudeness. _"Get moving! Please! We're waiting for you!"_ Then, just as quickly as she had arrived, she was gone, and they were alone. Elphaba and Fiyero looked at each other, eyes wide.

"Good God."

They dressed quickly, and were walking out of the tent when Elphaba remembered. The shock buckled her knees, sending her stumbling into Fiyero. Her stomach hollowed out, her breath caught in her throat, she couldn't speak… and yet, after her initial stumble, she couldn't stop walking. Her face froze. Fiyero obviously detected nothing amiss, for he took her hand and led her to the area where the tribe had gathered and was talking amongst themselves. Elphaba slowed minutely, and her breathing stopped all together.

They had gathered in front of a newly constructed platform, which had been built about three feet high in front of a tent, where the guest must have been staying. Fiyero wondered aloud about the guest and slipped into conversations taking place around them, as Elphaba stood frozen, hunched like an old lady. She stared at the tent flap. Suddenly, either by hand, wind, or trick of light, it appeared to move, and volatile Elphaba dropped to the ground like a stone in water. She tried to curl up as best she could into a ball, tucking each bit of exposed green under the black of her shift.

But the jabber of the crowd had not ceased. Elphaba didn't move. The blood was pounding in her ears, her nerves absolutely frayed. She was ready for anything, anything. _Danger to the next person who touched her,_ she thought.

Now, a hush had begun to descend over the crowd. _She's going to see me, _thought Elphaba. _She's going to see me and call me out. And then I'll be killed by whoever's with her. And she'll be happy watching because she probably hates me right now. And Fiyero will be furious for screwing over his plan. And—_

"Elphaba?" whispered Fiyero. "Is that you?"

Elphaba opened one eye. "What?"

"How did you do that?"

"Do what?" she whispered harshly and frantically. Fiyero opened his mouth, closed it, and shrugged helplessly.

"Look at yourself," he finally managed.

But Elphaba didn't need to be told; she had already seen herself. Her skin had somehow turned as brown as Fiyero's, with barely a hint of the original green. Trembling, she rose to her feet as silence finally took a firm hold.

Had Elphaba not known that it was Glinda, she wouldn't have been entirely sure that the lady who was now climbing onto the podium was she. The woman was petite and blonde, to be sure, but the hair had been pulled back into a severe knot, in a style not unlike the one Elphaba was sporting. The broad sunhat was barely decorated, as well as the short-sleeved white blazer and matching skirt, ankle length and swirling but with no discernable puff. But the change that the newly-browned Elphaba was caught up with was the expression on Glinda's face. In the past, Glinda had worn a huge smile, or a dramatic pout, or wide-eyed, wide-mouthed shock, or bratty disdain on her face, even if and especially when the emotions were sincere. Now, her face was blank, but for the small smile hanging on her lips. Truly, she was unrecognizable.

She didn't think Fiyero had identified her, either. She could tell he suspected. He was staring at her from underneath a furrowed brow, head thrust forward, but he wasn't sure enough to say anything. As the rest of the tribe leaned in with anticipation of Glinda's first words, Elphaba stared at Fiyero's face, waiting for his reaction.

"My fellow Ozians."

It came instantaneously. Fiyero jerked his head back. Elphaba watched his eyes dart to the left, then to the right. He jerked his head to look at her, grabbed her wrist, looked around, and let go. Elphaba closed the gap between them and took his hand. "You need to calm down," she whispered, her own panic having subsided when she discovered the disguise she had inadvertently created for herself.

"Calm down? Maybe you need to panic a little," he hissed back. "This is a disaster. She won't recognize you, but me?"

"We won't be seen, then."

"But Masiya…"

"I didn't say we would hide out." Fiyero cocked an eyebrow. "And anyway, she won't believe you're Fiyero. Make up a bloody name. Pretend you don't speak Ozian. Don't act like you know her."

"_Shut up."_ An old lady had finally gotten fed up with their whispered conversation. They closed their mouths, embarrassed.

Glinda's speech lasted over twice as long as it should have, since it had to be translated into the Paniwawa tongue. Not much was said; just that Glinda as ruler of Oz wanted the tribe to have full access to the privileges of a citizen of Oz. Now that democracy had been restored, they would have an equal amount of power within the federal decisions as any other people, even a representative in Council, if so desired. She had brought with her a paunchy dignitary, as well as Shahan the Camel to translate.

They went through their day like this. Wherever Glinda was on the camp, the newlyweds remained on the clear opposite side. When she went into her tent, they sought refuge in theirs. The second time they had an opportunity alone, Fiyero wasted no time saying that which Elphaba had been bracing herself for all day.

"Listen, I asked around and I think Glinda's staying for three days. We should leave tonight. I know there's an oasis about four miles north of here, and then there's a trail of vegetation that leads us to a river, which will take us to Quox if we follow it."

"No."

Fiyero started. "What?"

"No, Fiyero. I don't want to run. I don't want to wander the desert, and I don't want to set up some half-life in a country I know nothing about. I want to stay here, where I'm accepted, and where we can be happy."

"Ok, Elphaba, but realistically, you know we have to go now."

"Why?"

"Because we'll be free. Don't you want freedom?"

Elphaba sat on the pallet. "You think that's freedom? Confinement to a shack, the two of us hiding out our entire lives… that sounds like freedom to you?" Fiyero didn't answer. "So why are you anxious to get there?"

"Because we'll be discovered!" Fiyero clapped his hands over his face, sucked in a breath, and pushed it out. "You can't tell me you want to be found."

Elphaba hung her head. "Of course I don't…"

"Thank you."

"Of course I want to be found!" Elphaba was nearly yelling, puffing herself to full height to look in Fiyero's eyes. "I don't want to be in hiding all my life! Glinda is my best friend, and she thinks I'm dead, and it's killing her, I know it is. Did you see her face?"

"Trust me, Elphaba. This is best for her and us. We can gather supplies and I'm sure they'd loan us a mukoa…"

"Shut UP!"

Fiyero was struck dumb. Before he could retort, Elphaba had stormed out of the tent.

She was furious. She was furious with Fiyero, herself, the tribe, and even Glinda, to some extent. Everything was fine, Hershlag was about to leave, they could have lived out their lives in simple peace; not in hiding, but hidden, with an entire tribe of people who could give support, and who the pair could give support to, eventually. Things were destined for complication now. At least the tribe had accepted her new complexion quietly. It was mid-afternoon now, and activity was at a minimum. Fiyero had thankfully not followed her out, and she plopped herself onto the stoop by the cooking fire.

But, for all the rage in her, the heat of the sun was mind numbing, the buzz of the daytime lulling her calm. Her gaze fixated on a shadow in the sand, and she sat suspended…

"Excuse me, miss… Miss, sorry to bother you…"

The words started as echoes in the back of her mind, slowly gaining volume until she realized she was being spoken to directly. Abruptly, she turned her head to the source of the words. All at once, she forgot about her new disguise as her eyes met Glinda's, and she froze once again.

Glinda looked a bit abashed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

It pained Elphaba, but she knew what she had to do. _"Sorry, Lady, I won't speak Ozian."_

"I… sorry?" Glinda looked around for someone else, but they were the only two awake on the camp. "I was looking for water. Water?" She mimed drinking a cup.

"_Yes, water."_ Elphaba nodded and repeated the motion. _"I'm really sorry it had to come to this, Glinda. I hope you could forgive me. I do love you."_ She sighed, feeling soundly unsatisfied, and beckoned Glinda to follow her.

The Paniwawas had set up what Elphaba referred to as a water factory. There was a well, a thing that had existed for the duration of the tribe's existence. Aside from that, there was a grid of shallow wells, holes covered with conical sheets of glass. Condensation from the sand would evaporate and condense into tiny droplets on the surface of the glass, traveling down towards the tip of the cone, before dropping off into a bowl that lay there. These had to be filled in every so often, when the sand became so dry the sun could find no water to boil in it. Separate families maintained the shallow wells, using the water for their own purposes; but in keeping with the Paniwawa spirit, a family would always be willing to share their harvested water with another family whose well had not produced enough over the day. As was probably expected, Elphaba pulled up a bucket of the cooler deep well water for Glinda, then ladled her a generous cup. Glinda thanked her and sipped the water, staring with an expression Elphaba could correctly identify as longing. Finally, Glinda had finished with the water, casting about for a place to leave the cup when Elphaba took it for her, smiling subserviently.

"Thank you."

"_You're welcome."_

"You know, you look too much like my friend. But, you know, no amount of wishing will make you her."

Elphaba nearly cried. _"It just might."_

"I mean…" Glinda sighed. "You can't understand me anyways. I think I might have actually fooled myself into believing that she's still alive. But, the thing is, I've been all over Oz, and unless she's left the country I'll have to force myself to accept she's really dead. I dream about her, you know. She looks close all the time, really close, like I can touch her."

Elphaba couldn't speak, in either Ozian or Paniwawa. It was probably a blessing, she reasoned; if she could utter two words, she would have wasted no time in divulging everything.

Glinda laughed there, tinkly and fetching, yet mirthless. "I'm sorry. I must have frightened you. Thank you."

Elphaba nodded. As soon as Glinda had rounded the corner, she collapsed, confusion flowing like lead through her body.

"Fiyero, we can do it." She was breathless and panting, having run all over the camp to find Fiyero and tug him back into their tent.

"Do what?"

"She believes I'm alive!" Elphaba was bouncing on the balls of her feet. "She hasn't accepted the fact that I'm dead yet!"

"How do you know?"

"She told me."

"What?"

Elphaba mentally kicked herself. "No, I wasn't seeking her out. She snuck up behind me, asked me for a drink of water, and while we're standing there she just starts spilling. She thought I couldn't understand her, right?"

"She didn't think you were you?"

"She thought I was a look-alike. Nothing more."

"Thank God."

"So… shall we?"

Fiyero thought for a while before shaking his head slowly. "No. No. It's too risky."

"But she said—"

"People say all sorts of things, Elphie. She was probably just rambling."

"She probably wasn't."

"Listen, I know how hard this is for you. It's hard for me too. I know how you feel."

"I think it's just the tiniest bit different for you, Fiyero."

Fiyero pursed his lips and looked to the ground. "Fine, think whatever you want. It's not a good idea to expose us, though."

"In _your _opinion."

Fiyero smiled at her from across the tent. For the second time that day, Elphaba stormed out.

_Not exactly a cliffhanger, but don't lie... you're about to die._

_Curlz_


	10. Chapter 10

_Bumped pretty quickly that time, don't you think? Anyways, it's probably for the better and for good (SEE WHAT I JUST DID THERE??) because this chapter's a doozie._

Dinner that night was lavish at one end of the camp. Glinda and her tiny entourage smiled at the spread before them. But, the supplies of the tribe had run low, and the rest of the camp had to be content with what would have served as an average-sized meal during the dry season, when supplies were precious. Fiyero and Elphaba sat together, picking over their meals silently. Elphaba was burning with resentment towards Fiyero. All she wanted to do was to race at Glinda, bury her face in the girl's shoulder and cry, pleading for forgiveness. She wanted to crack that façade; she wanted to see that gleaming smile on her face again instead of that tight, cold smirk. She wouldn't even mind a scathing remark on her clothing choice. She wanted her Glinda.

She couldn't possibly eat anymore. Instead, she dumped the remainder of her meal onto Fiyero's plate and moved towards the washbasin, not bothering to keep alert since she assumed such an important person as Glinda would never do her own washing up. She worked at the grease on her plate as though trying to erase a picture of Fiyero from it.

"Hello again."

Oh, bloody brilliant. Elphaba cursed silently, keeping her head down to grimace, and then changing it to a smile as she looked up. She nodded curtly, and continued with the washing.

"Sorry, could I just see how you're doing that…" Glinda craned her neck for a better view of the plate.

Elphaba bit her lip. She couldn't tell her here, like this; not to mention Fiyero's glare, which she could feel on the back of her neck. She extended her arms a bit more, allowing Glinda to study her technique of moving the grains of sand in tiny circles over the surface.

"Thanks. Like this…" Glinda repeated the motions, showing Elphaba, who nodded and smiled once more before returning her gaze to her own plate. She wasn't sure that it was clean yet, but she rinsed it and dumped it in the tray before hustling back to Fiyero. Unbeknownst to her, tears had started gathering in the corners of her eyes. She sat heavily next to him, bracing herself for some sort of reprimand, but instead, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Elphaba."

They hugged, tightly. She pressed her face into his shoulder, fighting sobs. His hand came up to stroke her hair, making it harder to contain herself. _Some honeymoon,_ she thought.

The sun had set, the fire was built, and the drums once again began. The tribe began to cluster in tighter to the base of the totem pole, calling for Elphaba and Fiyero to join them as they walked. The people got more insistent, and the children, warming to the game, approached them to tug on arms and legs. Not willing to fight, Elphaba obligingly stood up, Fiyero following her. They joined hands, and allowed themselves to be tugged through the crowd, close to the centre.

Then, without warning, Elphaba found herself in the air. The hands of six people had deftly caught her in the right spots, hoisting her up smoothly, as though she was riding on a wave. It was a few seconds before she realized what was happening. She twisted, trying to catch a glimpse of her captors, protesting furiously, but the crowd was cheering excitedly. The human litter wobbled as she squirmed, so she froze, fearful of falling. She _much _preferred the broom.

Her feet grazed the drumming platform, and the hands assisted her in finding her balance. She found herself standing head, shoulders, and hips above the crowd, unsure of what to do. She felt horribly exposed, almost naked. The drummers smiled at her eagerly.

"_Dance! Dance! Dance!"_ At least there was no question as to what they wanted. But Elphaba didn't understand how they could expect her to dance in this state. Truly, she felt almost violated. She searched the crowd for Masiya, whom she believed would put a stop to this, but the woman was smiling serenely.

"_Dance for us, Elphaba. A bride is a woman at the peak of happiness. Lead us in our merrymaking."_

Elphaba nearly laughed at the irony of this. She couldn't recall a period in her life when she had been more emotionally conflicted. _"I don't think I'm ready for this."_ Fiyero was glaring at her, motioning for her to come down. _How? How?_ She motioned for him to come over, but he remained in the fringes of the group.

"_Show us your happiness, _danaai_."_

But the drumbeat was hypnotic, tonight as any other. It was almost against her will that her hips started to sway. The crowd cheered, and she fed off their enthusiasm. Gradually, her arms were caught up in the rhythm, and then her legs. She didn't pay attention to her moves tonight, or their fit with the music. Right now, she was moving in a way that she seemed to be inventing herself, and she didn't even need to open her eyes to tell that she was doing it right.

Fiyero couldn't believe his eyes. She was exposed up there, entirely open for scrutiny by Glinda. His heart went out to her; poor thing, she had never enjoyed this sort of spotlight, no matter how she pretended otherwise. But… she had started to dance. And no matter how worried Fiyero was of discovery, he couldn't find it within himself to stop her. The extensions of the body, the delicate interplay of her hands… With a start, he realized that he was watching that dance which had garnered her so many cruel laughs from their Shiz classmates, until Glinda had stepped in. Paired with the meretricious jazz music, it had looked ridiculous. But here… Fiyero sighed, making those jerky movements that men do when they get emotional.

Glinda had found a sort of piece with this tribe. They treated her with respect, of course; tons of respect, and hospitality, and friendliness were pouring in at all sides. But they didn't worship her. She hoped she wasn't being egotistical in believing there was an undertone of worship in the Ozians' attitude towards her, but she didn't enjoy the glory at all. She wanted to be a democratic leader, not a Wizardian figure. Elphie wouldn't approve of another Wizard.

Elphie. Glinda was angry with herself for not mourning her friend more. She felt like Elphaba deserved a huge period of grief and breast-beating and carrying on. But, the truth was, Glinda had been so busy lately, Elphaba had just slipped her mind. Every so often, at the most random times – the middle of a luncheon, perhaps, or during a public speaking engagement – Elphaba would walk unbidden into her head. Glinda would remember with a start, and feel the pain, but mostly the guilt at having forgotten about her.

But Glinda knew, deep down, that she couldn't possibly grieve since she wasn't entirely sure that her friend had died. The more she thought about it, the more probable it seemed that Elphaba was alive. There were just so many possibilities for Glinda to chew on. It was said that Elphaba's body had been entirely melted away. Elphaba had been an accomplished witch, with a spell book full of wonders Glinda couldn't begin to guess at. (The truth was, she hadn't looked at it once since she'd received it. If Elphaba didn't like that, she'd have to show up and tell Glinda herself.) How possible would it have been to vanish? There were dozens, hundreds of scenarios Glinda had fabricated in her head, each one more spectacular than the last. At times, late at night, if she was suffering from insomnia, she could convince herself that Elphaba was definitely alive and out there. She would envision their meeting – some nights, the two girls would cry with joy, and some nights Glinda would beat Elphaba up for lying – and when she remembered that these were all fantasies, she would nearly weep with grief.

Today, that look-alike girl had stirred up a bunch of emotions that certainly weren't welcome. She had even _sounded _like Elphaba.

Glinda allowed herself exactly 30 seconds of wallowing before standing up in her tent and giving herself a mental smack. She was a dignitary with a job to do here. Of course, the people weren't exactly in need of another leader, or any sort of help from the nation… but it was nice to extend the offer, at least.

Well, she had been invited to the night's festivities: dancing, it sounded like, judging from the drum music and happy whoops that pounded through her tent wall. She hadn't danced in ages. Sighing, she exited the tent.

There was a girl on the raised drummer's platform, dancing for the crowd. It was the look-alike girl, it seemed. Well, at least now Glinda could be sure it was just a look-alike. Elphie would never dance on stage like that…

Closer to the action stood a man, her age or younger by the looks of it, watching the girl reverentially. Husband? Beau? Either way, Glinda approached him.

"She is lovely."

The man turned his head to look at her. "Oh, no."

He bolted, and Glinda was left frozen. Her head darted between look-alike girl and this new look-alike guy. But… the look-alike guy spoke Ozian… and the dance that girl was doing was oddly familiar.

Fiyero had blown it; he knew that. _Stupid, stupid, STUPID! _Elphaba, her best friend, could act her way through an awkward encounter… all he had to do was nod and move on. Nod, move on. Nod, move on. But the SECOND he had opened his MOUTH…

He was on the opposite side of the camp now, watching Elphaba. It was funny, wasn't it? She had been the one who wanted to turn them in. She was the one dancing head, shoulders and hips above the crowd. And yet, Glinda had no clue she was anyone significant.

She _was_ lovely, though.

The beat seemed to be speaking her, and gradually, she could decipher what was being said: _EL-phaba. TIG-gular. EL-phaba TIG-gular._ She had never felt more confident than she did now. The moon was full tonight. She tipped her head back to let the light illuminate her face…

And Fiyero started shouting.

_It's a trick of the moonlight, it has to be._ _It's a trick of the moonlight, it has to be_. _It's a trick of the moonlight, it has to be_. _It's a trick_… Glinda's mantra was trailing off. _It's a trick of the moonlight, it has to be_. Someone was yelling, but Glinda closed off her ears and screwed her eyes shut. _It's a trick of the moonlight, it has to be_. That girl had not just turned green. _It's a trick of the moonlight, it has to be_.

Then the girl moved, and she could hear what the man was shouting, and she knew it wasn't a trick.

All was lost now. Fiyero felt a sudden burst of adrenaline, and he had absolutely nothing to spend it on. Nothing could be done. He had to get her out of the spotlight. "Elphaba!" The crowd had thickened around the platform, people shocked and awed by Elphaba's un-magicking of herself. "Elphaba!" He could hear Glinda babbling out loud, and he knew every cover was blown.

Finally, he arrived at the platform. He grabbed Elphaba's ankle to get her attention, but she reacted impulsively and kicked, her toe digging into his lower abdomen. The air whooshed out of his lungs and he fell heavily onto the platform, supporting himself with his hand as he fought to regain control of his lungs.

Elphaba realized her mistake as soon as she made it. She hopped off the platform and grabbed Fiyero by his shoulders, helping him to stand, apologizing compulsively, even as she noted the contrast between her dark green hand and his chestnut skin.

"Get…to…the…tent." Fiyero sounded like he was being strangled, but he had begun to move through the crowd. Elphaba followed gladly, until another sound had her freeze in her tracks.

"Elphaba Thropp, get back here immediately!" shrieked Glinda, her voice wavering. She didn't stop there, though; almost unconsciously, she kept spilling combinations of those words, whether or not the resulting phrases made sense. Fiyero was still urging her forward, but Glinda held her pinned with her voice. The shrieks were getting closer, and Fiyero looked panicked. Elphaba walked back, and then wheeled around to support Fiyero, but the panic in his eyes had her turn again to slow Glinda down.

"Tent!" he whispered, his own voice wavering.

_Shut up, the both of you!_ "Fiyero, you go. It's too late for me but she hasn't seen you, if you still want to hide."

Fiyero stared for a few more seconds before turning and bolting. Elphaba was aghast. But before she had time to call him a coward, even in her head, a pair of hands had gripped her shoulders and spun her around, and she found herself looking straight into Glinda's eyes. The poor girl's mouth was open slightly, her chin was trembling, and her lips were stretched into something that could have been a smile or a grimace. Her eyes were tight, and there were tears perching precariously in the corners. She seemed to be fighting to speak, but muffled whimpers were all that escaped her.

"Come on." Elphaba took her by the hand and dragged her across the camp to the water factory, where she knew they wouldn't be disturbed at this time of night. She cast around for a stone for Glinda to sit on, but found nothing; when she turned back, Glinda had already made herself comfortable on the ground, soiling the white skirt. She drew her knees up to her chest and balanced her chin on them, like a little girl would.

"I knew you were alive, Elphie. I did. I was waiting for you to explain yourself."

Elphaba knelt on the ground in front of her. "Really? You knew?"

"I hoped."

"Well… would you like me to explain now?"

Glinda shook her head. "Don't bother. Just come home, Elphie. Please?"

"Glinda, why would I do that now?"

"Because it's the least you can do. You left me alone with this big, huge position to fill, and I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm just trying to do what you would do. But now that you're here, you can tell me what to do." Glinda hoisted herself onto her knees to look Elphaba in the eye. "Together we'd be…"

"Unlimited?"

"Yes, that's it! We'd be the greatest! We'd get Oz right back where it needs to be! Think about it: dreams the way we plan them."

"If we work in tandem, right?"

"Yes, there'd be no fight—"

Elphaba stood, and Glinda's eyes followed her. "That's the same pitch I gave you a year ago, and it didn't work then."

"Then, you were trying to entice me into a life of crime!"

"Said the Wizard." _Damn, Hershlag was still here._

"Elphaba, come on. It's the least you can do," she repeated lamely.

"Glinda, the second I walk in those gates I'm going to have bucket upon bucket of water dumped on me. And then, if I haven't already drowned, they're going to realize that I won't, in fact, melt, and it will be a mad race for the torches and pitchforks. And once I'm finished off, they'll start on you."

"Well, you don't have to walk through the gates. Nobody has to see you."

"Oh, I see. So I'm to be the… the secret advisor?"

"Something to that degree."

"Put up in a lavish palace room that the household staff is forbidden to approach, right? A room that Lady Glinda visits every day, and no one knows what for?" Glinda was silent. "I have a life here, Glinda."

"With that man of yours, Elphaba?" Glinda stood up now, her petite frame quivering. "Who is he?"

"He's…" Elphaba cursed under her breath. "He's a tribesman."

"You fell in love pretty quickly, didn't you Elphaba? What is it, a month, six weeks since Fiyero was slaughtered? That's quite the turnaround."

"Glinda, don't bring him into this." More emphasis than necessary had been placed on the word "slaughtered".

"Why not? Your man, he speaks perfect Ozian."

Elphaba gasped. "What did he say?"

"It's all right, what he said. He looks familiar, too. Elphaba, who is he?!"

"I told you!"

"Tell me the truth, Elphaba Thropp!" Glinda shrieked unexpectedly and pushed Elphaba backwards. Elphaba hadn't expected it; she stumbled back, stepping on a well covering, smashing it even though she managed to clear the hole. She landed with a thump in the sand, her foot burning.

"Be careful, Glinda!"

"Why?"

"That's someone's well! Do you know how long it takes to make a cover?"

"Oh. Ha-ha. That's rich. Which family does this belong to? Do you know their name? Why should you care about some water supply when you don't care at all about me?!"

Judging from the wetness running down her heel, that second on the glass had left at least one gash on the sole of her foot. "What?"

"You were content to leave me thinking you were dead, with this huge responsibility that I could never fill! You dumped that fat book in my lap with no instructions other than, oh, you'd better start learning! That, a sodden hat and a green bottle? That's what I have to remember you by? Get up!"

She was getting dizzy now. "I can't."

"Why not? Glinda has power now? Little blonde Glinda is posing a threat? It's my turn, don't you think, to wield a bit of power over you for once! Where are all your guts now, eh, Elphaba? Get up!"

"No."

"GET UP!"

"Glinda, if I get up, grains of sand will embed themselves in my foot and I don't know if I'll be able to get them out."

"What are you talking about?"

Elphaba shook her head furiously, regretting it instantly as stars popped behind her eyes. Glinda still seemed to be shifting from left to right, even after Elphaba had stilled her head. "Stand still," she muttered.

"Elphie, what's the matter with you?"

Elphaba didn't answer. Slowly, she lifted her right foot and laid it over her left knee for inspection. The blood left a trail in the sand. The damage was worse than she had thought; there were three gashes along the sole, and one huge shard remained wedged deeply in her instep. Now that she was looking at it, she could feel it all the worse. Her hand was trembling even as she tried to dislodge the shard.

Four slender white fingers gently cradled her wrist and moved her hand away from her foot. "Don't touch it, Elphie." Elphaba dumbly noted the loose yellow curl that fell in front of her eye as Glinda attempted to get a reaction out of her, but she had lost a ton of blood, and she just felt so tired. Finally, Glinda seemed to give up. "It's okay, Elphie, I'm getting help."

Suddenly, Elphaba snapped to. "Don't go, Glinda!" She wrapped her fingers around Glinda's wrist with a strength she didn't know she had.

"I have to, Elphaba, I'll be back." Glinda was obviously crying now, though trying to hide it. "Let go."

But Elphaba refused to let go. Finally, Glinda conjured a bubble big enough for the two of them, straining with the effort of keeping it moving. Elphaba never relinquished her grip, not until they had carried her into a tent and laid her on a bed.

"_Sleep now, child."_

Elphaba couldn't refuse.

_And there we have it, folks. Zee grand confrontation. Tune in next bump!!_

_Curlz_


	11. Chapter 11

_Pretty long bump this time, don't you think? Well, here's chapter 11. Hope you enjoy._

"Elphie. Elphaba. Wake up, Elphie." Slowly, she pulled one eye open. Glinda's pale face was hovering inches away from hers. "Elphaba, I'm leaving."

This shocked Elphaba into a sitting position, but her raised leg wouldn't allow her bend upright. Slowly, she lowered herself down again. "What do you mean, you're leaving? You just got here."

"I was scheduled to leave today. I just wanted to say goodbye."

Elphaba started to shake her head. "You can't."

"Yes, I can. I have to. I took a big chance coming here in the first place. There's still a ton of political unrest that I have to take care of. They think I'm a Wizard supporter, see. Oh, Elphaba…" Glinda sighed. "There's something else I needed to tell you. The Wizard…"

"He's my father. And, Glinda, his name is Noah Hershlag and he's here. He's on the camp."

"No, I know. I meant to tell you that he's gone. His balloon was repaired and I sent him packing. I don't know if we'll ever see him again."

"Oh." Elphaba shrugged and sighed. "Fine. He wasn't much of a father anyways."

"That's for damn certain, Elphaba Thropp."

"Actually…"

"Or is it Elphaba Hershlag now?"

"See, Glinda—"

"I know. I was just kidding… Elphaba Tiggular."

It was a very opportune moment for Fiyero to burst through the flap. "Is she awake? I brought food…"

"Fiyero, you told her?"

"What else could I do?"

"I already knew, Elphaba."

"Fiyero Tiggular, I sacrificed my foot to hide you!" Glinda and Fiyero looked at her, confused. "Well, in a manner of speaking."

"Fiyero came bursting in here when he heard you were hurt, upsetting pottery, furniture, people…"

"And Glinda's here tending to you like Kumbricia. She looks at me for a few seconds, passes me a towel and says, 'Press on the gashes.' She knew."

"Oh." It was starting to get tense in the tent. "Well, I'm glad you're not too angry…"

Glinda laughed. "The only reason I'm this serene is because I had my four hours last night to be angry. The whole pomp and circumstance, too… screaming, throwing things, cursing your name. But," she added with a shrug, "It's been four more hours since then, and now I have to say goodbye."

"You can't leave me here now, Glinda!"

"What do you want me to do?"

"What can she do, Elphaba? She's in a sticky position."

"I want to help! There are still wizard supporters who love you but not your principles, and there's wizard enemies who can't even hear your principles because they hate you so much. I can help."

"Out of the question, Elphaba. I'm not letting my wife return to the angry mobs."

"What about last night? You were completely against the notion of coming back with me."

"You're confusing everyone, love."

"Fiyero, please." The girls had said it in unison; they looked at each other curiously.

Finally, Elphaba sighed helplessly. "Fine."

"Elphaba, understand that it's hard for me. I don't want to leave you, but the minute I took that position whatever I wanted officially didn't matter."

"I can't argue with you, Glinda." She lowered her eyes away from Glinda's. "I'll be… fine."

Glinda looked a bit unbelieving, but she patted Elphaba's hair and smiled anyway. "Come on, see me off."

"But…" Glinda had enlisted Fiyero for help, and Elphaba was being hauled to her feet. "What about that portly dignitary?"

Glinda cocked an eyebrow. "That's my manservant. Do you want to know why I picked him? Five years ago, he worked in the Emerald Palace. He was caught gossiping about the Wizard and the head cook carved out his tongue." Both Elphaba and Fiyero gulped, drawing their own tongues to the backs of their mouths.

A crowd had gathered for Glinda's departure, and the podium had been set in the centre of the circle. Glinda took her place on it, while Fiyero supported Elphaba in the back. Shahan the Camel stood in front of Glinda to translate. A cheer went up among the tribe, but diminished as Glinda smiled and prepared to make her speech.

And what a speech it was. Melodramatic, maybe, but it sounded absolutely sincere, and Elphaba knew that it probably was. Glinda spoke about having been changed by her experience in and among the Paniwawas, for the better, of course. She told them she understood and supported their decision to live untouched by the government. Invariably, she mentioned Elphaba and Fiyero.

"And a thousand times thank-you for showing every bit of grace and hospitality to my friends. I know that, as their time here progresses, they will show themselves to be the strong and true leaders that I know they are."

That was it for Elphaba; she melted down, pressing her face in her hands so she wouldn't yelp and ruin Glinda's speech. Fiyero stepped close to her and slipped his arm under her shoulders to support her and her cut-up foot, and she turned her attention to his bare shoulder, soaking it within seconds. Glinda's words just sounded so _final_. It was surreal to think that this could be the last she'd ever see of Glinda, and she wasn't sure if she could get over that.

Because Glinda was such an experienced public speaker, her speech was over in a snap. Elphaba and Glinda faced each other, and then hugged, as if competing to see who could squeeze the most air out of the other. They broke apart at the same time, Glinda backing away a foot. Fiyero leaned in, pecking her on the cheek and hugging her, as Elphaba watched, anger mingling with sorrow. _Damn you, Hershlag. Damn you for doing this to us._

Glinda, having finished with Fiyero, grabbed Elphaba's hand and dragged her to a spot about ten feet away. "Listen, do I still have to promise not to clear your name?"

With a start, Elphaba remembered that exact promise. To her, it now sounded melodramatic and shamefully heroic. "Glinda, if it's safe, I guess you'd might as well. But if you get hurt because you can't keep from gossiping, I'll never forgive you."

Glinda was about to retort angrily, but she smiled and dropped her eyes. "You're joking."

"Yes."

"But until then, I don't think it's safe to keep in contact, not directly. It's certainly not even doable. If I hear of someone coming out this way…"

"What about the Camel?"

Glinda wrinkled her nose. "He's a Scrow dignitary. I can't tear him away…"

"Employ yourself a Camel, then.

"That would work." Glinda began to absent-mindedly twirl her finger through an escaped curl. "The trouble, of course, would be to actually find a Camel, and then to make sure he was trustworthy…"

"Or she. And would he turn on me?"

"On the contrary, most animals revere you. If they know you're alive, they could start revolting. No more war, thank you. Better to reintroduce them gradually to society, don't you think?"

Elphaba shrugged. "Well then. I guess I'll just have to wait."

Shahan's deep voice cut through their conversation. "Lady, we'll be heading out now."

"Thank you." For the last time, Glinda and Elphaba faced each other, but they forewent the squeezing and tears; instead, they grabbed each other's hand, whispered goodbye, and parted.

Fiyero's arms trapped her from behind, and the two of them watched Glinda's white form recede, her face turned towards them until the camel was a speck in the distance. Husband and wife remained there, though, watching the sand swirl windswept over the desert cactuses, neither willing to face life. Eventually, and inevitably, tribal duties called them back to earth. This was their new life, one that required immediate attention. For their old one, they had to be contented with waiting for it. And so, Elphaba and Fiyero Tiggular decided that for now, they would live happily. The "ever after" would come.

_Dear readers, thanks for sticking with me, through laughs and tears, through thick and thin._

_Curlz_


	12. Chapter 12

_Fooled you!! That last chapter was a bit of a red herring. As if I has the integrity to end the story so bittersweetly. (Well, originally I intended it to... but I couldn't live with myself.)_

Elphaba had been keeping count. It was Fiyero's and her one-year anniversary since their marriage. She and Fiyero had both aged another year, as well. Of course, according to the Paniwawa way of thinking, the only landmarks worth noting were the conception of a baby, the baby's first movement, the birth, and finally, the day when a woman is no longer able to bear children. In that respect, the couple had now had two anniversaries. Elphaba's stomach protruded like half a watermelon, with exactly the same pigment. It had taken a relatively long time for the two of them to conceive, which worried all female members of the tribe, much to Elphaba's annoyance. All females, that is, except for Masiya; she had spoken to them both gently. _"You are too new to the desert conditions and tribal life," _she had told them. _"You have not told me so, but you have both had emotional hardships in your recent past. Your time will come."_ And so it had. Finally, five months into their marriage, Elphaba had noted the absence of her monthly blood.

Of course, it was two days shy of the one-year anniversary since she had last seen Glinda. For a week, Elphaba had wrestled with the prospect of a Glinda-less future. But, as unlikely as it had seemed, she had begun to heal. Now that she was a proper member of the tribe instead of a guest, she and Fiyero shared full responsibility. They spoke the language fluently, only reverting back to Ozian when they had something truly private to say to one another.

Despite its outward appearance, the tribe had its share of drama. How could it not, what with the inhabitants living in such close quarters? Gradually, Elphaba had been caught up in the gossip of the tribe, which revolved mostly around the future couplings of the teenagers of marriageable age. Now, she doled out as many opinions as she absorbed, remembering from time to time how she had scorned this practice in her youth. However, gossip here was rarely malicious; it was too easy to be discovered.

The tribe also had its share of tragedies. Magic kept the infant mortality rates low, and it was therefore a shock when a baby couldn't be saved. Women, too, occasionally died giving birth. Every so often, there was a shortage of water, and fathers would tend to fall ill as they gave up their shares to their wives and children. One such man had died in the process. Funerals were lavish, with two ceremonies: one to console the family left behind, and one to celebrate with joy the life which had been led. The latter, though, was normally not practiced if the departed was an infant. The body was hoisted onto a high platform and burned, the ashes scattered to the four winds.

The baby bounced once again in Elphaba's womb, and she covered the lump that had risen, smiling serenely. She was no longer allowed to work, and she was growing bored, having taken to staring out over the desert, allowing herself to get hypnotized by the distance. Occasionally, heat made her drowsy, and she would dream with her eyes open, watching all sorts of things meandering across the landscape: her future family; a hot air balloon; a flaky scarecrow, a sly tin man, an upright lion with a curly main, and an angel-eyed girl in a blue gingham dress; even a fat sun-burnt man, from time to time. Today, however, her mind's eye created the image of a regal-looking camel loping towards her. She watched it grow from a speck on the horizon to a tall animal with lovely coloring, which had noticed her and was now walking straight towards her. A fringe decorated her front right ankle in green and gold, the colors of the Emerald City, and the same colors with which the saddlebags were embroidered. With a start, Elphaba realized that this camel – more probably a Camel – was very real.

She rose uncertainly as the Animal approached her. They looked at each other for a moment, and Elphaba was sure the Camel knew who she was. Then, she shocked Elphaba by sinking onto her left knee, leaving the decorated right leg extended forward, and lowering her head. She was bowing. When she looked up, the expression on her face told Elphaba that were she human, there would be tears in her eyes.

"My Lady Elphaba, I have longed to meet you."

Elphaba could only stand, opening and closing her mouth like a goldfish. She bent as far as she could with her pregnant belly and gently pushed upward on the Camel's neck, guiding her out of the bow. "What's your name?"

"Rahimi, my lady. Bandy Rahimi. Lady Glinda has given be the honor of being your messenger."

Now it was Elphaba's turn to be shocked. She lowered herself onto the rock she had been sitting on, her arm encircling her belly protectively. "Lady Glinda?"

Bandy nodded. "Her message is inside the saddlebags. My family worships you, and the way you fought for Animal rights. My family was ruined under the Wizard's rule, you know. Camels can live for a long time without food or water, but we can't live forever. My parents almost died."

Elphaba was already undoing the lock, which was an intricate device that she could feel had been magicked shut. "I'm sorry." She pressed her thumbs hard to the metal, sending waves of energy through the mechanisms, varying pressure until she had found the right combination.

"Don't be sorry! Without your voice, we would have died for sure."

The lock clicked. "Aha!" Inside was a thick parcel the size of a paving stone. She rested it on the rock before running around to the other side, where she found a similar parcel. Was this all a message from Glinda? Good god, she'd be reading until she gave birth!

Bandy had obliged Elphaba's request for her to stay until she could finish and write a response, and so the tribe provided her with a handsome share of food and water as Elphaba sat in the sun, squinting over the contents Glinda's parcel. To her surprise, they were old newspaper clippings.

**PORTRAIT OF A WITCH:**

**THE LIFE AND TIMES OF ELPHABA THROPP**

**PART 1: THE CHILDHOOD**

**Elphaba Thropp was born to the Governor of Munchkinland, Frex Thropp, and his wife Melina. However, research shows evidence which disputes Elphaba's paternity. It is said that Frex was often traveling, as befit his title, leaving Melina alone and lonely. Peddlers would often come to her door, and she was only too happy to give them a bed.**

It continued like this, week after week, a poorly-written soap opera of Elphaba's life, every detail entirely correct. Elphaba was often left speechless at the blunt, unbiased statement of facts. She was no stranger to media exposure, but then it had always been propaganda pieces, entirely devoid of facts and full of emotion. This was entirely devoid of emotion, yet Elphaba could definitely detect a Glinda-esque tendency in the magnifying certain aspects, like the prejudice Elphaba had faced all her life due to her skin. Pictures were used, as many pictures as could be found. None of the Thropp family pictures featured Elphaba or Nessarose's deformity, a fact always declared in the captions. As the articles progressed into the Shiz years, Elphaba saw her young impish face more frequently, positioned in the back of a class picture, or smiling shyly yet proudly with Madam Morrible, a shot that, to Elphaba's surprise, had escaped destruction. Glinda must have kept her diary, because it was quoted frequently: _**"'Dr. Dillamond is worried about the state of Oz. It's hard for me to accept that something so terrible could be happening, especially with the Wizard leading us. I think he's being a bit paranoid, and rightly so; some of the students are disgustingly speciesist. But part of me thinks he could be right.'"**_Elphaba marveled at how young and innocent she seemed; how had that turned into the number-one public enemy?

The last sentence nearly brought her to tears: _**"With a bucket of dirty rainwater, this neglected daughter, this outspoken youth, this bereaved lover and sister, this loyal friend, this advocate for the underdog, this enemy of the state, and this Wicked Witch of the West was brought down, leaving most of Oz in celebration, yet many in mourning. By Sir N. H. Gummersfeld III."**_

It was late at night by the time she finished. She sat by the fire, squinting to read the words. Fiyero, realizing that he couldn't budge her, had collected all the blankets they had to cover her against the desert chill, and he sat with her, frigid, until she put the final clipping down. As she stood to leave, she noticed Fiyero, bent over one of the articles, squinting to read it. By the looks of it, he had made his way halfway through the series. "Do you want to finish?"

Fiyero barely twitched at the sound of her voice. "Yeah. I'll just…" he trailed off.

"Do you want me to sit with you?" But Elphaba was exhausted, and Fiyero could obviously detect that. He waved her away, and she wrapped him in two blankets and complied.

The next morning, Elphaba felt like there were two stones weighing down her eyelids. For one horrible moment, she tried to force herself awake, but she remembered she was pregnant and therefore entitled to laze around. Fiyero, unfortunately, had no such entitlement, and she inwardly laughed as he heaved himself off the mat and about the tent, getting ready for the day. He had been out even later than Elphaba. She wanted to crack open her eyes and speak to him, but fatigue stilled her muscles. Finally, Fiyero kissed her cheek and trudged out of the tent.

All at once, Elphaba remembered the other package. She was awake now, and she spotted the brown paper slab immediately over in the corner. Slowly, inhibited by her belly, she rolled herself over, grabbed it, and rolled back to the warm spot on the bed. Inside was a stack of what she recognized as Glinda's handwriting, and she sighed with joy and relief as she pulled out the first page, dated only days after they had last seen each other.

"_Elphie, I don't know when, if ever, you will read this. But, if I ever do get a messenger, or if state permits me to visit the tribe again, I don't want to forget to tell you anything. I miss you more now that I know you're alive than when I thought you were dead. I know how awful that sounds, I know, but when you were dead I could at least be mad at you or dream you were alive."_

Glinda had treated these letters to Elphaba as a diary. Elphaba read about the gradual diminishing of the bans on animals, the artful way in which Glinda slowly picked off the tiny laws within laws one by one, stating inconvenience to the state as her main reason, before the big laws seemed so superfluous they were simply changed, or cut away.

One of Glinda's first major acts was to disband the propaganda newspaper, the Daily Emerald. She discovered a small would-be rebel newspaper group called The Free Ozian, a title she adored, and allowed most of the out-of-work writers from the Emerald to change over. She was able to create a law banning propaganda, stating that any writer may be called upon to present evidence to the facts stated in their piece, and were they not able to do so, they could be put on probation or fired. _"Originally,"_ Glinda wrote, _"I'm going to have to vet all of the articles myself, so the writers know what flies and what doesn't. Hopefully they'll catch on quick and I can get secretaries to do it."_ This, apparently, had happened, but Glinda still read the paper every morning. If a secretary had missed something, both the secretary and the writer would be put on probation, with a retraction published the next day. Because of these restrictions, most articles concerning Elphaba had originally been scrapped.

Then, after about three months, Glinda's penmanship went from obviously fatigued to excited and jumpy. _"I've just had the most fabulous idea. There's still so much gossip about you, you know. Most of it is ridiculous, as you could probably guess, and I've figured out a way to end it all. I'm going to commission a weekly series, your biography! I don't know how thrilled you'd be to hear it, but I'm so proud of myself. There's an old curmudgeon, Nathan Gummersfeld – forgive me, Sir Nathan Harmish Gummersfeld III – who's been out of work and needs money. He'll do it, for sure. He used to write all your propaganda pieces, you know, so the public will read it for sure and take it seriously. But I'm going to make damn sure he sticks only to facts. I'll pay him hugely and put him in the running for all sorts of awards. You'll see. They'll eat it up."_

And apparently they had. _"You should hear how much buzz has been created. The Animals, they're free now… not so accepted, but free, and they've been talking. I know some humans have been converted. Teenaged girls and housewives treat it like some sensational novel. I've heard they even cried at points. At any rate, gossip is down to a minimum. Most of what you hear is – dare I say it – truth."_

Elphaba read the last page just as the stifling heat from the day reached its maximum. _"I'm almost certain its safe to clear your name now, and I think I can tell them you're alive. You know I'd do it artfully. I'm good at manipulation. I don't want to do it, though, without your consent. I've finally found a trustworthy Camel – a girl, how about that – who could act as messenger for us. Please, give me permission to tell. I want you back here. You could be my vizier. Imagine, a country run by two women._

"_I have one more thing to tell you before I seal this with a kiss and send it off. (I can't believe you're actually going to read this.) Boq (yes, I know it's him) enjoyed maybe two weeks of fame before having to move to the slums. He can't really work because of his condition. Naturally, I had no desire to help him out, but… last week he came to my door. Well, really he was carried. He was a twisted heap, but his mouth was still intact. He told me he had been in an accident, but I suspect he had been mauled by Animals. The metal shop is still working on him. How did you change back Fiyero? Could you do the same thing to Boq? Obviously, I understand if you don't want to, but I think it would be the right thing to do. I'm sure it would boost your public image, too._

"_I'm anxious to hear back from you. With love, Glinda."_

Elphaba wasted no time. Paper was non-existent in the camp, so as much as it pained her to do it, she found a long sharp piece of wood and magically siphoned all the ink on the first page up and into the stick. The page was now blank, and she had formed a makeshift pen to write with.

"_It took me twenty hours to read the articles and your letter, if you can call it that. What can I say? I'm shocked._

_I can't believe how much trouble you went to, only to eliminate gossip, you clever thing. It is personal, but every bit helps, I suppose."_

Not to be outdone by Glinda, Elphaba detailed her life, although she found the comparative heft of her letter to be miniscule next to Glinda's. She was sure to mention her pregnancy. In the end, she returned to politics.

"_Tell them, Glinda. I'd like to be able to visit as I please, at any rate. I don't think I'm portable, though, for another few years, at least. I can't make a trip across the desert with an infant. I need my broom for that, and still, it wouldn't be big enough for the whole family._

"_As for Boq, I can't change him back. I can't tell you what I did for Fiyero in a letter, but I most certainly could not do the same for Boq. I don't think anyone can. I'll tell you why when I see you next."_

Sighing, she closed the letter and emerged outside. The tribe was taking their nap now, and she tried to keep her noise to a minimum as she trudged across the yard. Bandy was standing by a bucket of water and some peeled cactus, her head nodding lower on her long neck. The bags were folded neatly off to the side, but the fringe still adorned her right ankle. She snapped alert as Elphaba approached, though. Elphaba smiled and held up the letter. "Can I slip this into the bag?"

Bandy nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, lady. And then, if you would be so kind as to sling them over my back, I can be on my way to deliver it."

"Don't be ridiculous. Stay for as long as you feel you need to."

Bandy shook her head. "Thank you, but I've already overstayed my welcome."

Elphaba didn't bother arguing. She smiled and petted the Camel's neck, and then fastened the bags to her back. "How long will it take to get back?"

"About two weeks."

"Hm." Bandy looked worried, but Elphaba smiled. "Maybe I'll see you in a month, then."

"Maybe."


	13. Chapter 13

Glinda bit her lip as she re-folded Elphaba's letter. She had to act fast. She scribbled a note on a piece of stationary and briskly left her study, calling for the coach to meet her at the front gate.

As usual, the office of The Free Ozian was insanity as she walked in. Quills scratched, people shouted to each other across the room, and the thuds and whirrs of the printing press was a constant contributor to the atmosphere. Within three seconds, silence had taken over, everyone having stood respectfully to acknowledge Glinda's presence. The editor of the paper, a youngish expatriate Munchkin called Mik, came sprinting from the copy room, arriving red-faced and sweating.

"Lady Glinda. What can we do for you today?"

Glinda smiled and pulled from her purse the note she had scribbled before. "How much space is available on the front page?"

She felt like she could almost watch the spatial calculations occurring in his head. "There was that Glikkus affair today, but if we chop the ad and push two p's to A3, we could run the review in Culture instead and entirely scrap the filler piece, and then paste in the ad… What do you want us to put in?"

"It's short. It'll take up maybe three square inches. It's a notice for an address I'll be giving on the weekend."

"On the weekend? That's three days away."

"I can count, Mik." Mik blushed superbly. "I know it's last minute, and I want everybody to know. Everybody."

"Okay…" Mik took the paper and studied it. "I take it you want this run every day until then?"

As predicted, Palace Square was _packed_. Glinda couldn't detect a spare inch of space in and among the crowd. Now that the final moment was coming, she was getting nervous… extremely nervous. In all honesty, she was terrified. Her plan had not been thought out well enough. In her mind's eye, she watched a riot take place, imagining the casualties that could come of this address. But, she couldn't very well send everyone home…

Trying to smile, she spread her arms out, catching the attention of the whole crowd, before lowering them gently, indicating her wish for quiet. It took a while, but eventually silence did fill the square. It was deafening. Glinda took a deep breath and prepared to speak.

"Fellow Ozians, may I begin my address with a simple question. If it applies to you, please simply lift your hand into the air. I would like to know how many of you read Sir Gummersfeld's series in the Free Ozian, Portrait of a Witch." But as soon as she had said "Gummersfeld", every single hand in the square shot up. To Glinda, elevated considerably, it looked like a flesh-colored grassland. "Thank you, you may put your hands back down.

"My friends, I have a confession to make. Know that what I say now, I say with the deepest remorse and apologies. I say this out of love for you. For a long time, the Land of Oz – myself included – we were in the shadow of deceit. We were lied to, Ozians. We were lied to about many things, but today I shall address only two: the Animals, and the Witch." At this, mumblings arose. They hadn't expected this. Glinda once again motioned for silence, and they complied quickly, eager to hear what she had to say.

"Though you may not have been aware of the behind-the-scenes matters of the law, you have all seen the changes in our society. A year and a half ago, the only Animals we saw were in the stables on all fours, or tied to carts, or even on our plates. They were lumped in with the animals, in fact; humiliated, and embarrassed, their dignity and hope and lives stripped from them." At this, the few Animals that were in the square shouted angrily in agreement. Glinda continued. "Now, they live among us. It is regrettable that there are those who continue to contribute to the discrimination, but they have been given the right to work, to get an education, to live in a suitable environment, to participate in commerce, even to walk in public among humans. They have finally been given the rights we are all entitled to.

"However, years ago, the seeds of hate were sowed in our hearts by the highest powers in Oz. The Animals were wrongly blamed for the country's social and financial difficulties. Why these men and women chose to persecute the perfectly innocent, we will never fully know or understand."

So far, the mumbling hadn't turned into rioting quite yet. Glinda was satisfied, but she realized how quickly it could all turn around. "There was one other scapegoat used besides the Animals, though. It was one specific Human. We know her; we know her name. Still, her title speaks of evil and hatred. I am talking, of course, of Elphaba Thropp, the Wicked Witch of the West." Here, there was no mumbling, just one collective gasp. Glinda didn't bother pausing. "We call her 'Wicked', just as we once called the Animals. And yet, are Animals wicked?" Silence, except for a few drunken shouts that could have been confirmation or negation. "Is it probable, then, that our minds were poisoned against… against Elphaba, in the same manner as they were once poisoned against the Animals?

"But before I continue, please, raise your hand if you would like to hear the truth!" Glinda realized that she was shouting, and perspiring from the effort, and on the word "truth" her fist smashed the podium. Everything was still for a moment, and then, gradually, the hands in the square went up, one by one, hesitating. It took a full two minutes, but by the end of it, every hand was stretching to the sky. Glinda took the final plunge. "You _were _lied to! Elphaba Thropp was a rebel, nothing more. She was innocent in every respect! Her only mission was to gain equal rights for Animals, not to terrorize the citizens of Oz! She never hurt a soul! And now, where is she? Killed! By you! By you, and by me! And why? Because of lies! Only LIES!" Glinda had no idea where these words were coming from. The speech certainly wasn't going as she had intended. She was hysterical, screaming and crying, leaning over the podium. It was the speech she had wanted to make immediately after Elphaba's "death", and even though Elphaba was alive, Glinda had never lost that resentment to the population of Oz, or the guilt of not having prevented it. She couldn't continue, so she turned and fled back into the palace, the noise of the crowd welling up behind her.

But before she locked the door to her room to hide, she set a meeting with her ministers, to begin in three hours.

Unfortunately, a meeting with the ministers wasn't as exciting as it sounded. In Glinda's time as leader, she had not managed to build up the full cabinet she had envisioned. Rather, there was a representative from Quadling Country, the State of Munchkinland, The Glikkus, Gillikin, the Vinkus, and the Animal population. She had managed to get natives from each sector, but Wolf Claw's third-person Quadling dialect often drowned out anything he had to say, some had trouble taking Rol seriously due to his size and child-like voice, Cudgeon was embittered to them all, Arden acted superior, Halaro would take great offense at the loose use of the word "Winkie", and Bandy was too shy to speak up. Normally, these meetings disbanded before anything could be accomplished, and she guessed they would be even more incensed today. She walked in, shaking, but trying to keep her head upright. The questions started at once.

"This _would_ have been good information to share with your _closest_, No?" asked Arden.

"I would have, I really wanted to, but I was under oath."

"To who?" This was asked by everyone except Wolf Claw, who instead noted that Wolf Claw wished to know to whom Lady was under oath.

"And why have you broken it now?" added Halaro.

_This is only going to cause problems._ "I was under oath by the Witch – Elphaba herself. And the reason I've broken it is of no importance. Give me one second…" she added, because all five had opened their mouths. "I can explain. Right before she… right before she was killed, she had me swear that I wouldn't clear her name, because she thought (and rightly so) that the country would turn on me and I'd never see her goals through."

"And what goals, exactly?"

"That which I have already accomplished," intoned Glinda with a note of pride and a smile playing about her lips. "The lifting of the Animal banns and the acceptance of them as members of society." Bandy smiled shyly. Glinda looked at her pointedly. _If there was ever a time to keep your mouth shut, here it is._

Predictably, Arden was once again the first to speak up. "If you _don't_ mind my asking, then, _why_ is it that you've called this meeting? _What _was your intention?"

It was all Glinda could do to stop herself from smacking that smugness off his face. He was smart, there was no doubt, and altogether a good soul, but she had become unused to the inherent Gillikinese snobbery, and felt supremely condescended to. "The _reason _I called this meeting," she began, imitating Arden, "was to gage your support of me."

"And then expel us if we couldn't be convinced," muttered Cudgeon angrily.

Glinda shrank a bit. "Not at all. In fact…" she began to improvise. "You will all vote… vote for confidence or non-confidence. And if half of you… if you are equally divided…"

"Wolf Claw wonders if Lady is ok?"

Glinda realized she was trembling. "I'm fine. If you are equally divided, I will call an election."

A careful silence followed this announcement. Finally, Arden once again spoke up. "Election for _what_?" He annunciated the "h".

"An election for Leader of the Land of Oz."

The silence turned to stunned. Glinda was horrified at what she'd said. Now faced with the need to actually fight for her position, it seemed almost certain that she would lose it.

Halaro opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, and then took the plunge. "We vote today, then?"

"Yes." Glinda checked herself. "Why?"

Halaro shook his head. "It's nothing. Well, I think I know what my people would want, but I have been removed from them for too long."

"I, too," said Rol, speaking for the first time this meeting. He had deliberately lowered his voice a few octaves. "I think, even a day among them…"

This made sense. "Does everyone feel the same way? All in favor of the reconvening of this council in one week's time, say aye."

Halaro and Rol responded first, followed then by Cudgeon, and then by Wolf Claw, who seemed to be having trouble expressing himself with only one word. Arden assented with a flip of his hand, and Bandy smiled sweetly.

"Good, that's settled. Now, before we leave…" Glinda laced her trembling hands together on her lap. "I'd love to clear up any misconceptions or concerns. The floor is open." All these formalities seemed absurd, considering the size of the ministry, but she wanted to make the right impression.

Arden was, predictably, the first to stand. "The Wizard denounced _Elphaba_. Now you are denouncing the _Wizard_. However, for those years you were apparently a _part_ of the Wizard's suite. Tell me, _how_ are we to believe you now?"

She had seen this coming. "The Wizard used me as a pawn to get to Elphaba. I was young and foolish. I knew what was going on, and I intended to use it to Elphaba's advantage, but I'm the first to admit I was a bit drunk off fame. The only proof I can give you against the Wizard is the comparing of our policies. Imagine the Animal banns. Inhumane, ignorant, unnecessary… these are adjectives that have never been contested," she said, looking pointedly at Bandy.

The ministers didn't look exactly convinced, but they each shrugged.

"But what of the Lady Dorothy?" asked Rol, who had been mayor of Munchkin City at the time of Nessarose's death.

"What of her?"

"You know, are you denouncing her as well? Was she not the Wizard's weapon?"

"What we must remember is that Dorothy Gail was young, very young, when she landed in Oz." _And began her reign of terror,_ she wanted to add. "She was as much a pawn of the Wizard as I was, but she didn't know any better. Like any Ozian, she believed Elphaba to be evil incarnate. The Wizard was also holding hostage her passage home. But, it was her companions who clinched it. Both the Tin Man _and_ the Lion sought revenge for various perceived wrongs."

"Than it was the Lion, Tin Man and Scarecrow who you blame? Do you imply that they had no case for revenge?"

Glinda sighed. "In a manner of speaking, yes. It was all misinformation. Elphaba magicked Master Boq to compensate for a botched spell from her sister, so she saved his life in that respect. The Lion was terribly misinformed; he believed that Elphaba had held him hostage, sealing him from early challenges, which caused his cowardice. The scarecrow, however, had no case or even an apparent vicious will towards her."

The council didn't look convinced at all. Glinda suddenly felt an uprising of emotion; she gazed longingly at the doorway. "And apart from that, there is nothing I can say or do to make you believe me. Council adjourned." She brought her gavel down briskly on the surface before her. "We will reconvene in a week's time."

_Let me be clear: I don't like this chapter. The only reason I'm putting it in is because it's necessary for plot development. I think it's corny and clipped, and also, I find it difficult to write Glinda, so her character development is quite awkward. I apologize, I hope you all aren't too disappointed._

_Curlz_


	14. Chapter 14

"FIYERO!"

At the sound of his name being screeched, Fiyero froze. He had been bathing at the well, and was just in the process of dabbing off the excess water when his serenity had been shattered. As best he could, he tried to cover himself with the ragged woven blanket he had brought with him, but Elphaba's forest-green hands snatched it away, leaving him exposed.

"I've been working on that for a WEEK!" she hissed, waving it in his face. "Look at it! It's RUINED!"

"Elphie, it's a raggedy old thing…"

"Old? It's NOT EVEN FINISHED! You know what _is_ old?" she added, interrupting him. "Our bed sheet is old, but we'll be sleeping on it for a long time now that you've gone and _defiled_ this one…"

"It was bunched in the corner! I had to pull twigs out of it to… _oh._"

"Yes, oh!"

"But you can fix it. You can magick it, can't you?"

Elphaba exhaled angrily and threw the half-finished blanket back at him. "Cover yourself, you green-cocked freak…"

Fuming, Elphaba stormed back through the camp, scooping up her baby boy who had been puttering in the dust with some of the other children of the tribe. Fexo, whose name was the best Paniwawa approximation of Frexpar, was a beautiful child, in the way that all healthy, chubby babies are beautiful. His soon-to-be thick black hair curled, and his rich brown skin only shone green in dim lighting. At the moment, however, Elphaba adjusted her hold on him to discover that his diaper had overflowed, leaving her hand covered in tar-like poo. Wetness leaked out the sides of his diaper onto her bare hip, and, at the end of her thread, she growled in disgust, holding the child out from her body.

The day continued much in this vein, and Elphaba was understandably tense by the late afternoon. After the dinner had been seen to, she slipped away to sit on the edge of the camp and unwind. She stared, dazed, at her toes half-buried in the sand, not noticing the shadow falling over her until an effeminate scream lashed at her eardrums.

The shock nearly knocked her backwards. She jumped and screamed as well, whipping her head around wildly. She could feel a defensive blast radiating out from her body, and her eyes landed on a septet of camels, whose backs had just been vacated by a sextet of riders who were now lying dazed in the dust several feet behind them. One of the camels, Elphaba could see, was Bandy; one of the ejected riders was Glinda.

Normally, Elphaba would have run to Glinda, but she was altogether too shocked by the sudden appearance of the strange men and camels. She was all the more perplexed when each of the camels sank to their knee, as Bandy had done, extending the decorated ankle. "Lady Elphaba," they chorused, in wavering but reverent voices.

The five riders were reviving, but Elphaba still couldn't move. A Munchkinlander, a Vinkus tribesman, a Gilikineser, a Quadling and a Glikkan had seen her, and Elphaba expected at any minute to hear harsh accusations of witchcraft.

At this point, three Paniwawas were running to help the visitors. Elphaba was still stony. She retreated slowly back into her tent. Fiyero and Fexo were at dinner now, and she dumped herself heavily onto the pallet, facing the tent flap. How dare Glinda surprise her like that?

"Nice, Elphaba." Glinda had poked her head through the tent flap and was now staring with a look of utter disappointment on her face. Elphaba noted with some satisfaction that Glinda's prim hair and traveling clothes were entirely disheveled.

"Did it hurt?"

"Uh… yes, actually, being blasted backwards off a camel _did_ hurt. The ladies here fixed it quickly, though. Anyways, I brought them here so you could come out of hiding, and this is how you make a first impression."

"Glinda, in all fairness to me, you could have sent some kind of warning. You should have. I'm volatile."

"You say that like it's an excuse. Clean this place up. I'm having them in here to meet you."

Elphaba raised her eyebrows. "In case you'd forgotten, I'm the one in the dark here. How about you start by telling me who they are?"

"It's my council, of course: Wolf Claw, Rol, Cudgeon, Arden, Halaro and Bandy."

"Right, and what's this council doing here?"

"They came to see you, of course. Well – I brought them here for a leadership retreat."

"Without telling the tribe they were getting company?"

Glinda pushed herself all the way into the tent, huffing. "Will you stop thinking so little of me, Elphaba? We've been in the desert with a Scrow guide for three days already. We're simply stopping in to say hello before we leave. We weren't even going to take a meal."

Elphaba flopped backwards and covered her eyes. "Tell me if I'm wrong – they're not supposed to think I'm evil but they probably still do on some level."

"Unfortunately, yes."

"And up until now they thought I was dead."

"Yes. And I'd really appreciate it if you would turn on the charm, because if you act naturally you'll screw yourself over."

Elphaba glared at her friend, who returned the expression. "Fine. But I won't be happy about it."

"Well." They embraced. "It's good to see you looking good."

"You too, Glinda." They pulled apart, quite calmly. "Oh! I had the baby!"

Glinda's jaw dropped. "I forgot entirely!"

"Yes! But you can meet him later." She sighed. "Bring them in, I guess."

"Thanks, Elphaba. This means a lot to me."

Glinda left and came back, leading a line of guarded-looking men into the tent that Elphaba had rapidly magicked into a state of some sort of order. The expressions on their faces were almost comical. Every single one of them jumped upon catching their first glimpse of her face. Elphaba moved to extend her hand, but withdrew it as they gasped; apparently sharp movements were not tactful around this bunch. Remembering Glinda's order, she smiled and opened her mouth to speak. "Well, I trust this is a shock for everyone."

The council nodded and murmured assent, and the big blonde Gilikineser muttered "Quite".

Glinda laughed her charming, tinkling laugh; she had slapped on her public relations face. "Imagine, stopping by to say hello to the tribe and discovering a long-lost friend! What are the odds?"

The one Elphaba took to be Arden spoke again. "Indeed." She was starting to vehemently dislike him.

Glinda unconsciously raised a hand to her hair. "And you'll never guess who else is here. Prince Fiyero," she interjected, before anyone had sufficient time to guess. "He and Elphaba were married by Paniwawa ritual. Married! Fancy that!"

"Yes," said the blond.

"Ah…" Glinda was fishing. "Elphaba, why don't you tell us about your adventures?"

Elphaba stared at Glinda incredulously, and Glinda shrugged back, a frantic look on her face. Elphaba cleared her throat and faced the men. "Well, I suppose my adventures began with my escape from Oz after the Dorothy incident." The first roadblock had been hit; Elphaba looked back at Glinda, mouthed "Scarecrow", and shrugged; Glinda shrugged back and nodded. "Prince Fiyero fetched me from the castle. I'd turned him into a scarecrow to save him from the persecution. Yes," she added as the group frowned in unison, "Fiyero was a part of the witch hunters. So we escaped into the desert, and eventually we found the tribe, and we were immediately accepted as members."

There was a pause. "Wolf claw wonders at spending such a long time in the desert."

"Long?"

"Yes," said Halaro, catching on. "Lady Glinda arrived at the Paniwawa encampment ten days after the departure of the Wizard."

Glinda and Elphaba glanced sideways at each other, partially grasping what they were implying, but not entirely.

"That would mean you were in the desert for two full weeks, since she didn't see you during her visit. How did you manage it?"

"Ah. You see… well, Fiyero hunted for us, and I gathered what I could, I magicked us a meal from time to time…"

It was that "m" word, the taboo subject, which broke whatever strains of trust that had developed. Immediately the men crossed their arms and took a step back. Glinda's smile slid off her face like jelly. "Anyway, I'm sure the rest of Oz will be ecstatic to know that she lives, don't you agree?" This was met with stony silence. Glinda gulped. "What I mean to say is, maybe we could have her back to the Emerald City? She could make a speech and explain herself better than I could."

Arden frowned. "Now? We take her back now?"

"Yes, my thinking entirely!" Glinda clapped her hands and forced a laugh. "I'm so glad you agree with me!"

"Glinda!" Elphaba rose from her perch on the bed. "Can we have a word?"

"Of – of course," Glinda stammered. "Gentlemen, would you excuse us for a moment?"

The tent flap swung shut, and Elphaba turned Glinda to face her. "What do you have against giving me a heads-up about things like this?"

"I'm sorry…" Glinda was flustered, and, as with every time Glinda became frantic, Elphaba caught a glimpse of the overly dramatic teenager Glinda had been. "I thought you might have guessed!"

"Well, who said I wanted to go?"

Glinda was struck dumb. "You don't want to go?"

"Did I say I don't want to go? Maybe I do, maybe I don't. Either way, it's my decision, and you cannot put me on the spot like that."

"Please, Elphaba." Glinda put on a horrid, anguished face and began to scream in a grating, agitated voice. "I'm MELTING! I'm MELTING! Oh, what a world!" She lowered herself onto the floor until she was surrounded by a heap of skirt, obviously in imitation of Elphaba's ruse. "How's that for putting someone on the spot?"

"That's not funny, Glinda."

"Believe me, I know how unfunny it is. Here…" Glinda stood and clasped Elphaba's two hands in her own. "Listen to me very carefully. I am asking you, Elphaba Tiggular, if you would like to come back to the Emerald City."

"And I am telling you, Lady Glinda Upland of the Arduennas, Leader of the Land of Oz, Good Witch of the North, etc. (Glinda blushed), that I need time to make this huge, enormous, gargantuan decision."

"Do you personally want to?"

"It doesn't matter what I want. I have all these questions to ask. I'm a mother; I have a family. Can Fiyero manage with Fexo for however long I stay away?"

"They can come too."

"Fexo can't make the trip."

"Well, if not for all that, then, do you want to go?"

Elphaba shifted uncomfortably. Then, she smiled. "You know, I have a baby. You have to meet him!" She grabbed Glinda's hand and pulled her almost violently from the tent.

_I'd say that was better, wouldn't you agree?_

_One more thing: I only got 2 reviews on the last chapter, so THANK YOU danderson and She Who Shall Go Nameless! This chapter is dedicated to you._


	15. Chapter 15

_Wowzer! I CANNOT believe the response I got on the last chapter: 10, count 'em, 10 reviews! Love it. LOVE IT. Now, back to the business at hand:_

"Elphaba, what's this about you going back to the Emerald City?"

"What?" Elphaba dragged him out of hearing distance, leaving Fexo to play with his Auntie Glinda, who uncharacteristically squatted next to him in the dust. "Who told you I was going?"

"Glinda said she was trying to persuade you. So, are you going or not?"

"See, that's just it! I don't know!" Elphaba put her hands on her hips and huffed. "No. No, I can't. I can't just leave."

"Do you want to leave?"

"It doesn't matter. I don't even care that much. I can't go to the Emerald City, that's ludicrous." Elphaba smiled and playfully slapped Fiyero. "Can you believe Glinda even suggested it?"

"Of course I can. You're going, Elphaba."

Elphaba was absolutely speechless. "What?"

"Let's be honest here. You're not entirely cut out for this kind of life, and you're going a little mental."

Elphaba scoffed. "No, I'm not! Today was just a bad day!"

"Please. I'm your husband. I can tell."

"Well what about you? You weren't exactly raised here!"

"Elphaba, I'm a Winkie. I get this more than you do. I really think you should go. It'll clear your head."

Elphaba sighed and rested her hands on Fiyero's muscular chest. "You'd better not let Halaro hear you calling yourself a Winkie."

"I'll watch myself." They kissed. "You're going, am I right?"

"I don't think so. I don't want to leave Fexo." She gazed contentedly as she watched her boy clutching Glinda's snowy fingers in his own chubby chestnut hands, staring at the strange flesh tone incredulously.

An hour later found Elphaba standing at the edge of the camp, awkwardly holding a woven bag filled with an extra garment and some basic food supplies. She clutched Fexo to her chest, unwilling to give him back to Fiyero. The tribe had turned out for her departure. The blanket she had bewitched with the levitation spell was hovering tensely beside her; she would be riding in relative comfort all the way across the desert. She didn't dare offer to share, though; the men would flinch from touching an object so reminiscent of the famous broomstick. The tears came after finally kissing good-bye to Fiyero, and the council stared in shock at the water on her face and her lack of reaction to it.

Aside from the comfort of Elphaba's flying blanket, the journey was unbelievably awkward. Glinda had insisted on Elphaba flying right beside the group, but little communication actually occurred. Instead, Glinda prattled loudly to the group at large, while Elphaba conversed openly with the Camels. The men maintained stony silence.

They camped with a group of three Scrow scouts who had been paid to set up and keep a comfortable camp for the night, and they enjoyed a meal considerably more varied that that which Elphaba was used to. They slept on pallets covered with light woven fabrics finer than that which the Paniwawas had, and yet Elphaba found she couldn't sleep without Fiyero's warm body next to her.

The next day, the tension was broken with the addition of the Scrow scouts to their party with camels of their own. Having been living among a tribe for the past year, Elphaba immediately formed a companionship with them and found with delight that she could understand their dialect, and they hers. Elphaba, the Scrow, and the camels prattled together amiably for most of the day, until the heat became quite unbearable around noon.

Finally, they came to the first Arjiki village, the rustic brick roads and wooden houses a near cosmopolitan compared to what Elphaba was accustomed to at this point. But she was unable to enjoy it, as she had reached the first place where she was recognized. She moped through the streets surrounded by her companions to where Glinda's royal caravan waited to take them the rest of the way to the Emerald city, abashed at the amount of green flesh exposed by her Paniwawa garment. With regret, she bid farewell to the Scrow guides and all camels but for Bandy, and prepared herself for the long journey back to the Emerald City.

The secret of Elphaba's existence had to obviously be divulged to the driver and chef of the caravan. They both clearly distrusted her, but were too afraid to admit so in Glinda's presence. Elphaba resolved to keep neutral and out of their way, until Glinda approached her one night after dinner.

"You might try being friendlier. They think you're plotting something."

Elphaba held back a retort.

The long, monotonous hours in the caravan gave the council plenty of time to argue over politics, which Elphaba gladly listened to, though she never got up the courage to participate. It made her glow with pride to watch Glinda debating; though she didn't always agree with her friend's opinions, she knew they were all concise, unbiased and well-formed. She tried to tell her as much, but Glinda would always roll her eyes and change the subject.

For seven days in a row, they would stop the caravan in the middle of the wilderness and retire, a series of defensive spells being their protection from bandits or wild animals. After being driven mad with the monotony of the journey, Elphaba would welcome the opportunity to pace around the site with Bandy, breathing the fresh air and stretching her cramped limbs, often being joined by Glinda for part of that time. Eventually, Wolf Claw would join them, then Halaro, and finally, Rol. Neither Cudgeon nor Arden ever felt the need to walk, however, but since they were such entirely different personalities, Arden could often be seen sulkily leaning against the side of the caravan, having been driven outside by Cudgeon's pessimism. Though Elphaba still kept quiet, amiability gradually developed between the travelers, until, at the end of the journey, she found herself the receptor of simple pleasantries such as "Sorry, tight squeeze" and "Morning, Ma'am".

Colouring all this, of course, was her separation anxiety. She missed Fiyero and Fexo dearly, enough to lose sleep and shed a few tears every now and then. She didn't tell Glinda, but her friend guessed.

"Nothing's going to happen to them, Elphaba."

"I know that. They're magically protected."

"Then what on earth are you so concerned about? They're fine. At this point, they've probably forgotten all about you."

Elphaba's heart plummeted like a stone. "Glinda, I can't wait until you have a child so I can use that line on you the first time you leave him."

Glinda sighed. "Elphaba, that's ridiculous. If I have a baby, it's going to be a girl."

Finally, on the final night outside the Emerald City, conversation took a startling veer off its normal course. The council members were expressing their excitement at returning home to their families.

"My wife is simply forlorn without me," said Arden. "I have two children, a girl and a boy, and the both of them are simply the pride of my life."

"My daughter had just discovered she was pregnant again before I left," quipped Rol excitedly.

"I hadn't seen my parents for a year before this trip," said Bandy.

"I never thought I'd miss my wife's cooking," Cudgeon grumbled.

"Wolf Claw's wife is with child right now."

"Halaro and I are the only singles, then?" piped Glinda.

Halaro smirked. "Actually, I'm engaged. I got engaged right before we left."

Elphaba sighed. "I haven't seen the Emerald City since…" She stopped herself abruptly, realizing that she was veering into tabooed territory. The rest of the party stared at her, slightly agape. Glinda moved to interject, but Arden held up a hand to stop her.

"Continue."

"Well…" Elphaba decided there was nothing to lose. "I guess it's been almost two years since I was there. I mean, I flew over it a couple of times between Kiamo Ko and Munchkinland, of course."

"Of course," murmured Halaro. He seemed as though he was bursting with the need to ask something. Eventually, he broke. "Is your sister still living?"

Rol started at this. "Of course not. I saw her dead with my own two…" he trailed off and glanced at Elphaba. Glinda seemed frozen. Finally, Elphaba exhaled and answered.

"My sister Nessarose is quite dead. She would never have thought to fake her own death."

Halaro wasn't satisfied. "Then she, too, was simply misunderstood?"

Elphaba's smile was laden with irony. "Rol, would you like to answer this question?"

Rol shrank. "How am I to tell between reality and Wizardian propaganda?"

"Use your intuition. How was life under Nessarose?"

Rol chose his words carefully. "At first, life improved after our break with Oz proper. The yield was more. But then, the despotism became more – more pronounced."

"And what does that mean?"

"We were forced to attend religious assemblies, the taxes were nearly unbearable, and one could barely disagree with Miss Nessarose before dying in a freak accident."

Elphaba sat back. "There you have it, gentlemen. My sister was indeed a tyrant." She blinked back the tear that had formed in her eye.

Glinda found it necessary to intervene here. "Of course, Elphaba, you're leaving out the fact that Nessa had been entirely dependant for her entire life."

"And?"

"Well, don't you think some of her need to dominate came from that?"

"Maybe so, Glinda, but Nessarose was a poor leader, no matter which way you slice it."

Halaro stared at her, a strange expression on his face, almost sympathetic, but mostly surprised. "It's been hard for you, hasn't it?"

Elphaba lowered her eyes and nodded.

_I know you'll all have questions about the story arc I set up a couple chapters back and couldn't finish within the body of the story. Glinda won the cabinet vote. Bandy voted Yes because she worships Elphaba, who loves Glinda. Arden voted No because he's slightly ageist; he thought 30 was too young to run a country. Halaro voted No because he wanted to leave the vote to the population of Oz. Wolf Claw voted Yes because he wouldn't trust anyone else to understand Quadling affairs. Rol voted Yes because the Munchkinlanders did see the Good Witch as a savior, and it would be hard to shake that sentiment. Cudgeon surprisingly voted yes; turns out conditions in the Glikkus had improved with lifting of animal banns, as more beasts of burden working in the mining industry greatly increased profit margins._


	16. Chapter 16

The Emerald Palace Square was once again packed, but this time, there was a definite note of curiosity. There hadn't been an assembly like this since Lady Glinda had delivered the "truth" about the Wicked Witch of the West. The citizens murmured excitedly to one another, eagerly eying the balcony where Glinda the Good was due to appear.

Meanwhile, in the hall behind the balcony, Elphaba was experiencing a mild panic attack. She had managed to convince herself, despite Glinda's assurances, that there wasn't a citizen in Oz who believed in her innocence. The fact that she was wearing more clothes now than she'd worn in over a year didn't help; even though she'd refused to wear a corset, she could barely breath in the black bodice-fitting blazer and full-length, cream-coloured skirt. She nearly screamed when Glinda gently laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't be so tense, Elphie. It's fine."

Elphaba nodded frantically. "I know it's fine. Um, Glinda…" she took her friend's hand and led her to a little alcove. "How about we do this tomorrow? Or any other time would be fine, really."

"Strategically, we can't do that, Elphaba; practically the entire city is crammed into the square. They'll riot if we try to send them home without any information."

"Then it's a lose-lose situation, because my face will start a riot."

Glinda smile gently. "I don't think so. Please try to believe me."

"Or," she interrupted, "you could tell them, but I won't actually come out. You could say something like, 'We have reason to believe'… you know?"

Glinda wrinkled her nose. "Elphie…"

"No, it would be so perfect. And then we could wait, I don't know, a week, and maybe _then_…"

"Elphaba…"

"Depending on whether or not they're happy about it, I could come out!"

"A week?"

Elphaba was struck dumb. She couldn't stay a week; that would mean more than a month without seeing her family.

"This whole trip would be a waste if you didn't speak."

A polite cheer arose when Glinda stepped out onto the balcony. Her clothing choice seemed benign to the outsider, but her outfit had been picked with symbolism in mind. Not only were her blazer and skirt much simpler than what she normally wore for public functions, they were made in nearly the same style as Elphaba's; except her blazer was off-white, and her skirt was forest green. Smiling, she motioned for silence, which was granted eventually. Now was the hard part:

"Fellow Ozians."

For the first time since before she left for Shiz, Elphaba found herself contemplating her father's beloved deity, the Unnamed God. She'd never had any real use for him; her father had believed her birth a penance sent from the Unnamed God, an attitude that had immediately alienated Elphaba from any religious convention. Some of His themes, though, struck a chord with her now. She had been effectively forgiven by an entire nation; she had gone through trials and tribulation, only to emerge stronger; and now, if fate had any sense of justice, she was about to gain the one thing she had dreamed of her entire life: acceptance.

"Elphaba?" The voice was low and timid and strangely hollow-sounding, and Elphaba knew why: clanging and grating accompanied the man as he walked. Elphaba refused to acknowledge Boq, though; she remained resolutely facing the balcony.

"Elphaba, the least you can do is look at me. Look at what you've done to me."

At this, she couldn't contain herself; she whirled upon him. "Look at what I've done to _you_? Open your eyes, Boq! Who's the real loser in this situation?"

Boq brought a hand to his face with a metallic clang. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to start off that way. I just..." Seemingly against his better judgment, he stepped closer to her, looking directly into her eyes. "They say that you only did it to save me from Nessarose's spell. Whether or not that's true, I need to ask you something."

Elphaba barely heard the incriminating last sentence; she was focused on his "I'm sorry." She bit her lip, warding back any emotion that could be exhibited on her face. "You can ask."

Boq brought his hand together silently in a praying position. "I can't function like this. I can't live like an immortal. If there's _anything_ that may be done..."

"There isn't." Boq seemed to sink into himself. "I'm sorry, but any method that may reverse the spell - well, I can't do it for you." Some of her old affection for her Shiz friend seemed to be returning; she felt genuinely sorry for his predicament, but not sorry enough to recreate what she had done for Fiyero. "Listen, let's have a chat later. I want to help you." Who knew? Maybe there was another way.

There, Glinda was calling her now. There were no shouts, no ring of gunfire; instead, a chorus of mutters rose to the balcony. For a moment, Elphaba froze. Glinda left the balcony and walked towards her, hand held out, smiling encouragingly; Elphaba took it, trembling.

Elphaba felt like a vole returning to the surface after a long hibernation. The sun kissed her face, illuminating her natural pigment; she squinted from it and instinctively tried to hide behind her hair before remembering that it had been elegantly pinned up. There were gasps and a few shrieks, but for the most part, silence prevailed. Finally, she brought herself to look over the crowd: faced turned towards her in awe, human and Animal alike. Glinda squeezed her hand, and Elphaba noticed the tears glistening in her friend's eyes. There were no yells, no angry chants. For the first time in her entire life, Elphaba cried with relief, with contentment, with joy.

_Right, that's the end. You can all go home now._

_I guess I owe you all an explanation as to why I decided to end it there. The story for me was really about Elphaba coming to terms with herself, the person that she didn't have time to take care of while running around committing good deeds and going through emotional trials like some people go through cell phones. Yes, it leaves some loose ends, but only plot-wise; I feel like everyone's personal journey has been completed._

_But, hey, if you want to see a certain development, please review and describe it to me! If I like it, who knows what may come tap-tap-tapping out of these fingertips of mine... (across a keyboard, that is.)_

_It's been fun. Ciao, tutti._

_Curlz_


End file.
